Well, today is my birthday, and I threw myself a party. A pity party.
Carl and I had big plans today:We were swanning off to Asheville to embrace culture and have luncheon–It would be luncheon in Asheville; I eat lunch here–at any one of our favorite places, visit real bookstores, then pick up a few delicacies at the gourmet food market before heading back ~sigh~ here. It’s the only thing I wanted for my birthday. A 3:00 a.m. vomiting session took care of that, though. I’m prone to attacks like these, called Migraine variants; they’re basically migraines, but without the headache.
Kneeling before the great porcelain god, I realized that I would not have a great birthday luncheon; I would not thumb through fascinating tomes, and I would not pick up exotic treats. “Why me?” I moaned to anyone who was listening. Isabel, my little black and white kittie, had no answer.
When the alarm I had set in excited anticipation last night went off a few hours later, all I could do was shut it off, sing “Happy Birthday” to myself in a minor key, feel sorry for myself anew, and roll over. A few hours later, I was feeling somewhat better, and Carl offered to make me a special lunch when I was feeling up to it. As Carl was shopping for the special ingredients, Xena and Boomer, my two oldest cats jumped up on the bed with me and started purring. I drifted into dreamland to be awakened a bit later by a kiss from Carl bring my my favorite unhealthy breakfast cereal, Cap’n Crunch’s Crunch Berries. Then, he popped in a DVD of Scooby Doo, and we watched and munched together as Sophie and Buffy joined us. He revealed that my special lunch was to be a grilled cheese with Gruyère and Blueberry preserves. (My favorite comfort food is grilled cheese.)
It was then that I realized that I was not having a crummy birthday; I am having a great birthday. I’m with the person I love more than life; I’m surrounded by my animal friends; I have a wonderful life.
I composed this prompt in response to the “When Childhood Ends” on The Daily Post. So how does this relate? The prompt said to write about a defining moment in my life when I was forced to grow up. Well, I’m a fully-functioning, responsible adult: I have a good job. I pay my bills. I make generally good decisions. I certainly grew up. My childhood has not yet ended, though. I love cartoons, not the gritty “adult” cartoons! No, I watch Scooby Doo, Where Are You?, Looney Toons, SpongeBob Square Pants, Superman, and Johnny Quest. I still prefer kids’ breakfast cereals. I play with my “collectibles.” I still look at the toad on my front walk and say, “Hi, there Mr. Toad,” halfway expecting him to answer. I still look forward to my birthdays. Next year, I’ll be 50, and I’m already thinking about what to do that will be fun for that one.
Childhood doesn’t have to end. Childishness does. Irresponsibility does. But that sense of wonder, that willingness to find fun in ordinary things…That should never end.
I have pictures of my little menagerie on About Spontaneous Rains if you want to see Sophie, Isabel, Xena, Buffy, and Boomer.