My birthday falls around the Jewish High Holidays every year. In fact, when I turn 35 I will be fasting on Yom Kippur while celebrating. I already penciled in a reschedule for that birth anniversary.
This year I hardly had time to contemplate my upcoming celebration! There is so. much. going. on.
Normally I’m the type of person who demands attention the whole week prior, or for an entire weekend, when my birthday approaches (shocking, I know). Maybe it’s the number “1″ after “30″ throwing me? Maybe the chaotic nature of my life draws my mind away? Maybe I’m in denial?
Either way, I’m celebrating another year in life and we’ve started a new (Jewish calendar) year.
Don’t get me wrong, December 31 always means a fun night out, but for me the new year begins with freshly sharpened pencils, apples and honey, and maybe a few presents, too.
September is my January.
New supplies grace my (short-lived) pristine classroom.
The services for Rosh Hashanah call to mind a year’s passing and looking forward to the next.
My birthday reminds me how lucky I am, how loved I am.
I’m looking forward to another great year in my work life, in my religious life, and in my life life.
(and don’t worry, despite the chaos I still had time to enjoy seeing Cirque du Soleil’s Totem, drinks with friends, and dinner with Mike!)
Edit — PS: Thank you for all the comments on my previous post. I really appreciate the insight and empathy. I feel foolish for not knowing something so important about my body, but…you live & learn, right?