I hope I never grow old enough to dread birthdays, to use coy phrases like “39 and holding”, or to spend the day reflecting bitterly on my newest wrinkles.
I hope that even the big birthdays will always be opportunities to celebrate life, to look forward to a new era, and to plan what I want to experience next, rather than a time to think about the things I haven’t yet accomplished.
I’ve had my share of birthday parties, and special birthday dinners, and one or two birthdays spent alone with a bottle of wine and a straw and a phone pressed to my ear.
And I am here to tell you that there are some things that just never get old, no matter how old I get:
It was with great pleasure that I celebrated my birthday this last week, with all of the above.
Michael made his classic yellow cake with chocolate frosting–a perennial favorite, especially when served with a tall glass of milk. The secret ingredient, of course, is love.
My uber-baker younger sister made a white cake with strawberry butter cream frosting. Sissy’s gift of perfect, pink, flowery cakes has become something of a birthday tradition for me. This one was a White Chocolate Whisper Cake from The Cake Bible, by Rose Levy Berenbaum.
My 15-year old nephew, dear one, arrived with a big bag of my favorite Lindor chocolates.
Several friends came over to share in the bounty of cake, as well as a few bottles of Prosecco. There were popping corks, and perfect isosceles triangles of cake, and eating and drinking and laughing. There was discussion of how I should commemorate next year’s birthday, which will be one of the really big ones.
There was a houseful of kind, clever, funny, shiny people—what could be more festive? What better birthday blessings could I ask for?
And while I was perhaps just a little worse for wear the next morning, it was merely from the bubbly, not from being another year older.