One more day in the sun

Birthdays were never my thing. As a child, it was right up there with Christmas in terms of the juice not being worth the squeeze. The day just never measured up to my expectations. I was an April baby in a sea of December babies. My Sister was born on December 6, my father, on December 14, my mother, on December 23. The entire month of December was always one long hand clap and balloon festival after another. It all culminated, of course, with the birthday celebration of all celebrations...the birth of Jesus. I was always exhausted by the time the New Year rolled around, and it seemed as if my family felt the same way. When it was time for my birthday, there were no thoughtful gifts, no big celebrations, or energy. It didn't help that we were living in Chicago, a place that is known to skip Spring altogether. As Prince once famously sang, "Sometimes it snows in April." In Chicago, that happened a lot. There were typically no festive lights to commemorate my birthday, just gray, dreary sky.

The first thing I did when I became a gainfully employed adult was to plan a trip to a warm and sunny place on my birthday. I didn't even care where I just wanted to feel the sun on my face on my birthday. Initially, with a limited income, I would head to Orlando, Florida, or Las Vegas, Nevada. Back then, these were places where it was the off-season, and you could have a budget vacation. Eventually, I discovered Scottsdale, Arizona. I was further along in my career, which involved a lot of travel. I would save up airline miles and hotel rewards and cash them in on a spa vacation in Scottsdale. The location varied over the years, but I had a handful of "go-to" places that allowed me to sit in the shadow of the Camelback Mountains and try my hand at hiking, yoga and clean eating. I would usually take a brand new journal with me, and create mission/vision statements and dream about the life I wanted to make for myself. I always had some version of a 3-year or 5-year plan imprinting itself onto the pages and into my imagination. Over the years, the spas became posher, and the stays became longer, and my vision for my life became sharper. I'm not sure if I realized it at the time, but I was actively creating a blueprint for my future.

This birthday ritual became a staple in my life for the better part of 2o years. Sometimes I would venture to other exotic Caribbean locations, but I would always find my way back to the desert and back to the sun. And then came 2020. What can I even say? As an introvert, I found staying at home and social distancing second nature. In fact, it was a relief not to make up excuses for why I wasn't going to "join in the fun!" But as two weeks became four weeks and then six weeks, I saw my birthday looming large on the calendar, and a sense of dread and almost despair consumed me. Was I going to miss my day in the sun? Are you @#$%ing kidding me?!

April 30, 2020, came and went. Not only was I not in Arizona in the sunshine, but it was also unusually cold and rainy in my Northern Virginia hometown. Great. "This is the worst! The absolute worst!" I lamented to anyone who would listen. But was it, though? I was 30 days away from early retirement at the age of 55 from a very successful 26-year career. I had just moved into a lovely brand-new home in a 55+ community. And, as I spent my birthday unpacking moving boxes, I realized that I was living the life I had crafted on those pages all those years ago. With so many people suffering and dying as the death toll from COVID 19 climbed ever higher, how in the world was I feeling sorry for myself? Needless to say, I snapped out of it. I spent my birthday combing over some of those old journals and marveled at the power of living an intentional life. I also went online and ordered a new journal.

I don't know when I will venture out into the world of travel again, I know it won't be soon. But I will be ready with a new journal, prepared to spend one more day in the sun, and cast a vision for the next phase of my life.