An old friend just phoned me in great distress because she had missed my birthday. The funny thing is is that I didn't even notice that she had missed it.
How strange our view of our date of birth becomes as we get older. I remember being so excited about it. Coming home from school and seeing balloons and birthday banners everywhere that my Mum had so painstakingly hung about the place. I see the same excitement in my daughter's eyes as she plans her birthday party every year.
My oldest friend forgot to call and I didn't even notice. Not that I'm in any way upset with my friend. She is a very busy mum of two, studying full time. What struck me is that I thought so little of my birthday that I didn't notice an absence of a phone call. Maybe it's because in the Facebook age most of my family choose to communicate with me that way (there were quite a few happy birthday messages there when I looked later) so I no longer expect a call, or maybe I'm just so over birthdays that I deliberately don't think about it. I'm not really sure. All I know is that with each birthday I'm reminded that I'm getting older and I still haven't done any of the things I always said I'd do.
I thought about this as my friend was wringing her heart out over the phone.
Am I getting unnecessarily philosophical or am I just bored with routine.
I decided the only thing to do was to go shopping.