Turning 27

Sometimes it's easy to forget how lucky we are.

Here I am, just turned 27. I came home late from work to find my parents had cooked a fantastic dinner, and that my brother had gone to the trouble of baking a cake for me.
I've felt somewhat blue of late, disillusioned. My house sale has fallen through, things are a little shaky at work, and when things don't seem to go right it's easy to feel disheartened.

Yet I am surrounded by people who care so much about me. People who do give a damn whether I am happy or not. People who do notice me. I've always felt microscopic but it's not true. Here on my desk I have so many pieces of evidence against that. Every other item is a gift from someone - tokens of affection, of friendship and family. I should be more grateful for that.

As I walked home in the dark, I felt sad. For those ten minutes I mourned the loss of someone who I only barely knew, yet someone who had briefly touched upon my life. A relative of my ex, who had been terminally ill for 3 years and had known it but kept it a secret from everyone she knew. It was her body who finally gave it away when she collapsed after Christmas. I cannot even imagine the torment that must be, to know that you will die soon but not to tell anyone. To pretend that everything is normal. Is that selfish or not? It matters not. I met her a few times and she was always kind to me. I remember her still.

It might seem a bit morbid to think about death on your birthday - but I think it is perhaps more appropriate on this day than any other. After all, for every beginning there must also be an end. My wish for today is that when my end comes, I will have had a life that is meaningful. I already feel lucky, that I have good friends, a caring family and a loving boyfriend. What more could I want on my birthday?