There’s nothing quite like a birthday to inspire thoughts of one’s eventual deathday. It’s possible this is unique to me, yet I’ve noted a pattern over the years. When I think about my coming into the world, my mind smoothly segues to contemplating a future day when I will come out of it.
Admittedly the first thing this habit inspires is panic — I really, really don’t want to die — but ride that wave, and there is intense gratitude. Excitement to have this gift of life. Because whatever happens to my various waves and particles on that fateful day, I’ve seen what a person can do with the time they’ve been given, and I am fortunate that I keep getting a piece of that.
So cheers to the beginning, cheers to the end, and a thousand cheers to the period in between.