Last week, I quietly turned 38. I ate steak directly off the grill and drank cheap white wine with x-husband #1, my current beau, and my best friend.  The kids were there, too, though they are far from kids now.  My daughter is 18 and packing for college, our conversations filled with class schedules and text books, fancy computers, and what clothes to bring.  My son is six months shy of being 16, taller than I am, and has discovered some self-restraint: he only blurts out half  the dizzying thoughts that run through his head.

We talked about our day at the PRIDE festival, the sunburns and Italian ices and Drag Kind performances on the side stage.  My son strung up a misshapen, handmade pinata filled with chocolate and the handful of condoms he collected from different sexual health booths at the festival.

This birthday was far different from ones in the past, where I proclaimed all of June to be my “Birthday Month” and justified several gatherings and bought new dresses and bright flowers or spiked, tall plants for the garden I used to obsess over.

I would have costume changes and get too tipsy, play badminton in high heels and threaten to kick anyone’s ass with my cheap racket in hand.  I’d have party favors for kids – bubbles and sidewalk chalk and dollar store coloring books with ugly animals or knock-off pictures of Barbie.

Yes, this year was without the fanfare or spectacle (except the slightly adult pinata I couldn’t hit) but a glorious day all the same.  Maybe that’s the beginning of growing up, of appreciating the few important people who gathered at your party, the older kids who could be doing something cooler with their summer evening than hanging and having fun with their mother.  Sure, I bought a new dress from Target and a skinny, black belt.  I wore some jangly, silver earrings and bracelets. But it wasn’t based on how many people showed up or having a DJ.  In fact, I had the kids play Daft Punk’s summer smash “Get Lucky” over and over again.  Because that’s how I was feeling…



5 Responses to “Lucky”

  1. Happy Birthday!

  2. First, belated happy birthday to you. I loved being 38 (way long ago). I hope you do too.

    Maybe all the pomp and circumstance about your birthday just isn’t a main focus anymore. There is that possibility that you’ve become more cerebral.

  3. 5 sincerelymargaret

    A very late, but very enthusiastic, Happy Birthday to you!! Your celebration sounds simply marvelous to me.

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