I was musing over my post yesterday about my 35th birthday, and I got the idea to read over old birthday posts I’ve written, and see how they were in my past life.
Paul was honestly surprised when I made the comment yesterday that it was the best birthday I’ve ever had, but I don’t think he understood that birthdays for me as an adult were practically a non-event. A search of the word ‘birthday’ on my blog pulled up only a few posts, and only one of them pertaining to a birthday of mine, which involved me making cupcakes with the kids for my own birthday, because I never really had the kind of cake I wanted (I always ended up with something everyone else ate). To be honest it kind of made me sad to read that post. No one should have to settle for someone else’s idea of birthday cake.
I was quickly cheered up however by the discovery of this old post where I talked about Damian’s reaction to his fourth birthday. It was a story I had completely forgotten about, probably because I was in the midst of my divorce at the time, and there was so much
negativity it was easy for the good stuff to get lost by the wayside.
But I blogged it, and so it is there. He will be 9 in January, and 5 years later I was able to go back and have a laugh and re-live the indignant righteousness of the 4 year old who thought I lied to him about his birthday gifts.
Thoughts and stories and little snippets of life fade from memory as time goes on, but being able to pull them back out like a photo album and revive those memories is absolutely priceless.