Birthday

It is odd what can make a birthday good. I expected little of this one. No one at work knew, as far as I knew. I wasn't sure my husband would remember, and I was tempted to test him on that by not saying anything. When that thought occurred to me, I realized how wicked that would be and reminded him just so I couldn't play that little game. This morning, facing the usual grueling day at work, I told myself that I would not dare the world to neglect me and then be mad at the world for it, but would just try to practice my gratitude.

That is not why it was a good day. There were just lots of little gifts in it. Merlin made me a hot breakfast. A tough little patient who has always cried whenever I came near her decided I was not that bad today. A patient who really needed to go the the crisis center didn't fight me on the point. I took a lunch break (yeah, really!) with a friend. A patient on my (very behind) schedule who looked like she was having a stroke wasn't, and her own nurse practitioner recognized what was going on stepped in and calmed the situation. I got to sing with friends at the end of the day. Granted that the singing was preparation for a memorial service for someone I wish weren't gone, it was still a privilege to be asked to do it, and a joy to do it. And then, another hot meal at 10 p.m., wrapped up with apple cake fresh out of the oven with lemon sauce.

And eight or ten friends from all different corners of my life, if a life can have eight or ten corners, wished me a happy birthday on facebook. I know that's paltry by some standards, but I feel pretty rich right now.