Pretty old

Thirty one years completed. Pretty old. As I dragged myself down the stairs at half past 5 in the morning, I thought about all the body parts that ached. I saw my reflection that hardly resembled what I had in mind. Still, it’s my birthday. I felt special. The sun is kind today. The wind is more generous. The tea tastes awesome. Most of my beloved ones are alive. Most of them did forget to wish. But they’re alive. A friend I last talked to in 2007 phoned from a diatnat land to wish. At least six people wished without a social media notification. One more person confessed she feels nice when she speaks to me. Not the least, there are the tens of hand drawn cards from my adorable son. Atrocious spelling errors. But he did it alone. From his heart. Deep deep down from his heart. And there wouldn’t be cake. But icecreams and eggs. And it is going to be crazy!

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