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Looking out my Backdoor: Happy secret birthday, me

Remember when you couldn’t wait? When each additional year brought joyful anticipation, jumping up-and-down glee? What? When you were 6. Then 10. 18. Even, in a different way, 21. That was then.

I have a dear friend who still gets that excited. For years she has extended birthdays from The Day to The Birthday Week and celebrates herself every day. She’s healthier than I am.

Me, I skulk around hoping nobody remembers. I don’t want any fuss. So I keep schtum.

I also have friends who keep track of everyone’s birthdays. This is good. They let me know when to send best wishes. We are scattered dist...


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