Another Birthday

“What would you like for your birthday?”

Waking up in my own bed would be nice. Nothing hurting; breathing clearly. Having had a good night's sleep would be the icing on the cake. Check, check, check, check.

I had no plans for today. Nothing on the schedule is my idea of a perfect day. Everything at my discretion. Some reading, some writing, some conversation, some Netflix. No company on this COVID birthday, but we did call for a pizza delivery. I ordered a Caesar Salad to be delivered with the pizza. We'll have that for dinner later. We have a smallish banana bread from the convenience store, and we'll put a candle in it and sing the song. Don't tell anyone! The owners of the rights to “Happy Birthday” are real bastards. We won't be singing it! I was only kidding!

Facebook will be announcing my birthday one of these days. I forget what date I told them. Lots of very nice people will say nice things, and I will be gracious about it. I enjoy that, to a certain extent. I have always hated drawing attention to myself, hated becoming the center of attention. I have no desire to be the leading man. No, not even the best friend. I'm happy being “crewman number 8,” the one who gets killed in the second act. As long as I get a couple of lines, I'm happy. I'll get on the credits, and I'll stay in the union.

All year I watch my friends on Facebook share the events of their birthdays. Many of them are real friends or family members, but most are Facebook friends. I like them all, or else I'd get rid of them, and I enjoy their birthday smiles. Many of them have children that call them all the time, and some have grandchildren that they see frequently and have genuine relationships with. I'm jealous, it's true, but I try not to get worked up about it. After all, pretty soon we'll be dead, and then it all comes to nothing anyway.

I have no bucket-list. There is nowhere that I really need to see. Nowhere that I want to go. There is nothing that I need; I have everything that I really need. I have access to medical and dental care that is pretty good. If you think that yours is better than “pretty good,” you are almost certainly wrong. I still have a job that I enjoy, one which does not overtax my diminishing reserve of energy. My second wife is a lovely woman who appreciates my good points while effortlessly overlooking my shortcomings. We have saved each other from lives of loneliness, and each of us works hard to make the other happy every day. I have nothing to complain about, although I like complaining so much that I do it frequently. Old habit.

You can write it on my tombstone: He was happy. No sense in scaring the children with the truth.