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Fifty eight trips around the sun are completed, and the fifty ninth is now beginning.

I’ve long said that a birthday is just another day.

I wonder if I really believe that.

Another Trip Around the Sun

My fifty eighth trip around the sun is now completed. How many more there will be is anybody’s guess.

I have long said that my birthdays are nothing special. They are just normal days. I wonder if I believe that.

Birthdays do not signify an accomplishment of anything other than surviving another year. I suppose that is worthy of some celebration, especially considering the alternative. Perhaps that warrants a comment more than a celebration, with the exception of children, of course.

There are also milestone birthdays that warrant greater attention than other birthdays. Fifty eight is not one of those milestones, but sixty may be. Still, I can’t imagine desiring some big event for reaching that age, either.

I will smile and thank people who wish me a happy birthday today, but I will also be thankful for the many people in my life who either do not know it is my birthday or who forget to wish me a happy one.

Those who know me best know that I am a Parrot Head. The collaberation between Jimmy Buffett and Martina McBride that is Trip Around the Sun contains some wisdom worthy of note: "Though we never see it coming. Always wind up wondering where it went. Only time will tell if it was time well spent."

Today will be spent the same as any other day. I woke up next to the lady I love and with whom I want to spend the rest of my days. I will take Elliana to school, and, since it is Thursday, Gemma will join us for our weekly stop at Connie’s Donuts. I will kiss my oldest daughter once or twice upon departure, depending on whether or not she goes with us to the donut shop. I will then get ready for work at a job I enjoy with people for whom I have high regard. I may stop by to see my youngest daughter after work, especially since one of her best friends is stopping by with her baby that I have not met yet. At the very least, though, I will talk to my youngest daughter and tell her that I love her.

All those things are both normal and special. Despite that, the linguist in me refrains from calling it special since it is also a normal day. If "special" is the same as "normal," then "special" loses its meaning as something above "normal."

As I ponder whether a birthday is really a normal day or a special day, I will enjoy listening to my favorite birthday song that I referenced earlier, Trip Around the Sun.



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