Is This You - The Day After Your Birthday

It’s not because I recently turned a new page in my book of life that I am writing about the day after a birthday. Not really. It’s because I am wondering if I’m alone in feeling the abject and very noticeable feeling of “the magic is gone” the day after a birthday. There are many days of the year that in some ways we all get that let down, that spoosch-puttt-putttt of air that comes out of a balloon when it is deflated. For instance, the day after Christmas. When I look at the tree on December 26 (yes, sometimes on the afternoon of Christmas Day), I let out a big old sigh knowing the next thing is to put it all away and get the house back into some sort of ordered order. But. Yes, a pine needled “but.” Then there is also the day after Thanksgiving. Most of all the people I know, however, look forward to all those cold turkey sandwiches and another squeaking in one more slice of every kind of pie imaginable that fulfilling Friday after Thanksgiving. The day after a birthday though, those are very personal to each birthday celebrator. 

There are many who claim the whole month as their birthday month. I don’t think I could eat that much cake. Oh, I would try for sure. But cake on a birthday has such magic to it. Or pie or a special cookie. Or ice cream. This year, because I have recently discovered my childhood Dairy Queen treat of a cherry-dipped ice cream cone, imagine my happy when I opened a card from a very cool and good friend and found a Dairy Queen gift certificate hidden inside. So, if not cake—ice cream. It all holds magic. But I have smoothly snowboarded down an ice cream cone and off topic. 

There are, I imagine, birthdays that we all remember. Be it because of a special gift, or surprise party, or first time you find yourself alone after your loved one dies. I hear that some who turn the corner at 30 are devastated by the 3 as the first number. I took 30 well. But when 32 popped it’s 32-year-old head up? It suddenly hit me. I would probably never be carded again if I bought beer. Oh, my. Not that I buy a ton of beer, it was just the thought. I was pleasantly surprised one year when I was 35 when I was carded. Then I saw the sign hanging at the register that read, “we card anyone looking under 40,” crumb, I had a whole five years before I was 40. I left that store with a new bounce in my step. Yes, I got carded after I was 30. Life is good.

That birthday, the one when I turned 32, was really the only one, so far, where I felt a bit of the sadness the next day. It lasted a few days then life went on. Everyone has a birthday. Everyone has that gift unto themselves. The day you celebrate that you are still sucking air. That you got up and saw green covering Mother Earth and not brown of, well, being under the earth. Yikers.

I celebrate all girly-like on birthdays. I don’t want to miss one minute of a birthday. I tell my friends to, and I absolutely do, “eat the cake.” If not on your birthday? When? Guiltless cake! Oh, be still my heart. No matter what your new number happens to come up. This one on mine recently is the last in a line of a decade; next one, I change the first number, too. How does that happen? I have heard tell of this mid-life crisis stuff. I wonder what I will be like when I hit mid-life? Haha. I already have the zippy red car and have dyed my hair at least once. So, when mid-life catches me, I am that far ahead of the game. 

Happy Birthday to you, whenever, your special day is. The day after your birthday? It’s all up to you how you meet it. Head on with your hand out to grab each and every brass ring that flies by, or head down? Ducking and diving to keep the wrinkle fairy away from all the spots we all get wrinkles on. You touched your face didn’t you? It’s okay, weathering is not the same as withering. 

Trina lives in Diamond Valley, north of Eureka, Nevada. She loves to hear from readers. Email her at [email protected]

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