Although I’m celebrating my birthday for three weeks this year, my actual birthday was yesterday, and I turned 34. What started out as a loose plan to visit Big T in San Diego for a day and a night, turned into two impromptu parties with people I haven’t seen in a long time. And while initially I thought I would continue the theme of this year’s birthday celebration: girls only, hubbie ended up joining me, and it made me feel grateful for a lot of things.
Like the fact that I have so many amazing people, and friends, and family in my life. People that will take time out of their busy Saturday to visit with me, or send me birthday wishes via Facebook or Twitter, or sing one of my favorite childhood songs on my voicemail. It makes me feel very loved.
And the fact that I’m a writer, an author, something that I’ve wanted to be since 2003, and here I am living the dream. I know it’s not perfect. I know I could have an agent or a million-dollar publishing deal, and maybe that would makes things better, but just knowing that people are buying my books, reading them, enjoying them, coming out to my book club parties to talk about them, is such a thrill. Seriously, I have a whole page of praise that people have written about my books, and it’s genuine. I didn’t pay anyone off or have to bug them (too much) to write these thoughts, they were moved by my writing and compelled to express it. It gives me hope, and makes me believe that all my other goals and dreams will come true.
I am grateful for my health, and sound mind, and that I keep making better decisions every year. I am grateful that I have a roof over my head, and if I ever didn’t, there would be people to help me through. And I am grateful for my husband, because even though we don’t know what the future holds, we have so many beautiful moments.