I hate birthdays.

    "Not only is the glass half empty, but the water is warm and it tastes bad."

    I hope you read this with the understanding that I am almost never 100% serious. Everything I say should be taken with a grain of salt. I like to complain, but things really aren't that bad. They never are.
    The night before I turned eight years old I cried because I thought I was getting old and my parents were going to die. That was twenty years ago. Twenty! The day I turned ten I told my Nana that I was a decade old. I'm almost three decades old now. I turned twenty-eight today. To some that might not seem like a big deal, but to a little girl who, for no good reason thought death was nigh at eight years old, it's painful.
    To be clear it isn't my death I fear. It's of those that I love. Death is something I've always been very aware of. My first best friend died when I was three. Her name was Alma and she was a smoking, cussing, wheelchair bound ninety-eight year old woman in a foster home for the elderly. Then an aunt, classmates, friends of the family, church family, a life-long friend, my sweet Papa. I understand loss is inevitable. I believe that I will see some of my loved ones again and I am comforted by that. I have watched friends lose their parents so young and again I am thankful that mine are still here.
    How did a post about birthdays become a post about death? Well you get older on your birthday. To me it's a day that boasts the loss of time. Time really goes in a blink of an eye. Even a long life seems short. I've always struggled with change and get frustrated with the lack of control I have with time. If I had one super power it would be to control time. To be able to pause those rare, perfect moments in the sun with loved ones when you're perfectly content. Obviously I don't though. I don't even have half decent time management skills.
    Getting old isn't the only reason I don't like birthdays or even one of the most nagging reasons. The reasons I get upset on my birthday are much more simple and even more selfish. I want acknowledgement and presents and to be the queen. I get sad when it doesn't happen. Boohoo. That makes me feel ashamed and then I'm a party pooper.
    I have no good reason to hate birthdays. I'm a selfish brat. I have had not so good birthdays and great birthdays. Today was a good day. I had a good birthday and it started with me having a better attitude from the start. I complained, but there was no crying. There was a lot of smiling, some laughing, a few hugs, a couple of presents, a good dinner cooked by my loving husband and some great birthday songs sung by my nieces and nephews.