“I count too heavily on birthdays, though I know I shouldn’t. Inevitably I begin to assess my life by them, figure out how I’m doing by how many people remember; it’s like the old fantasy of attending your own funeral: You get to see who your friends are, get to see who shows up. ” ~ Lorrie Moore, Anagrams
I reached my 48th year of life this past week. Just saying the numbers “forty eight”… it sounds so old. Of course if you are reading this, and you are past 48, you will think, “oh, please, 48 is so young!” in the way that I think that about someone who is say, 40 or younger.
It was an ordinary day for me, not unlike any other day. I woke up early, went to the gym, showered (and dressed a little smarter since it was my birthday), and went to work. No one at work knew it was my birthday, and I was ok with that. I did appreciate the handful of greetings I received from my old friends who simply remembered my birthday without the help of Facebook or some other social media site to remind them.
After work, a friend took me to Fred’s, a high-end restaurant inside Barney’s on Madison Avenue. We love to go there as it is a great place for food, drinks, and celebrity-watching.
Sure enough, we found ourselves seated to none other than Vera Wang.
I read somewhere that she is nearly seventy years old. She looks like she’s around my age.
To my right was Cybill Shepherd, or at least someone who looked very much like her. I was not able to capture a photo of her as it would have been too obvious (and rude). I wanted so badly to tell her how much I loved her and Bruce Willis in Moonlighting, but the truth is, these celebrities deserve some privacy and to not be bothered, especially at dinner, so I decided to leave her and Vera alone.
My friend told the staff that it was my birthday, so they quietly wished me a happy birthday.
When I was about to blow out the candle, they said, “Make a wish!”
I could not really think of a wish, so I just blew out the candle.
Being alive at 48 is a gift in itself. I do not need anything more.