Thoughts on a Birthday

"I've become aware that there are fewer days ahead than there are behind."

-Jean-Pic Picard

Driving home from St. Louis today, I looked at my left hand, resting on the steering wheel. It looked older than I'd remembered. We see our hands every day, but we don't really look at them (at least I don't). My hands aren't those of an elderly person by any means, but the skin sits a little thinner on them than used to, and it hugs the bones just a tad bit more than before. A day after my birthday, looking at that left hand, I wearily thought to myself, "I suppose it's the hand of a 42-year-old."

Birthdays are always an occasion to think about where our lives have been, where they're at now, and where they're going. This year's anniversary of a trip around the sun was no different. I woke up yesterday with a slight ache in my back. It went away soon enough, and could very well have been caused by sleeping in a hotel bed my body wasn't used to, yet I remember, for many years and many birthdays, my back never gave the slightest bit of trouble.

On the drive down to St. Louis a couple days ago, listening to a playlist I'd made of some '90s Eurodance tunes I'd enjoyed when going to the club back in the day, I was reminded of yet another friend/acquaintance from those youthful times who'd died. I can count them on at least two hands, the people who were my age, who I'd talked with, danced with, one or two I'd even been with physically, who'd once lived and breathed, whose faces I can clearly see in memory, conversations and nights together I can clearly recall as though they just occurred, who now no longer have birthdays to celebrate.

I live with the constant dread of the other shoe dropping. When things are going their best is when I tend to worry the most. What could be just around the corner? I am forty-two, am above ground and in good health, am in a relationship, own a home, have a full-time job and have been elected to public office on more than one occasion. At times such as this, I both embrace those things and I fear they will go away. Everything, at some point, goes away. It's just a matter of when.

While in St. Louis, I saw the new movie Call Me By Your Name, and it reminded of being young, of being carefree, of when love felt more pure, and of things both simple and complex. It feels like, with every year that passes, things become clearer and yet more complicated. There is a lot expected of being an adult, and thats okay, but I sometimes long for the days when I was younger and had less to worry about. Thing is, back in those days, I still worried about stuff. It is only hindsight that allows for the lessening of perceived burdens.

My birthdays have, overall, been pretty good. I was just thinking yesterday how I don't remember most of them. There are maybe ten that stand out in memory. The other 75% or so have faded. That's probably not a bad average, all things considered. I think about my father, though. When he celebrated what would be his last birthday, he was well aware of the terminal cancer within him. That was birthday number 52. His father died at 53.

I'm not certain how many more of these birthdays I have in me, but certainly hope there are more than ten or eleven. That's the thing with life: we never know what's around the corner. Health issues, job issues, relationship issues, etc. I guess what's best is, whenever possible, to live for the moment? Yesterday, I got to spend time eating my favorite foods, being with my favorite people, and watching one of my favorite sports teams lose. All-in-all, it was a good birthday. Here's hoping there are many more.