That's how many days I've been on the Planet.
That's a whole lotta days.
53 trips around the Sun.
Not bad for a rookie.
As I begin this next go 'round our fiery host, I think about all the days I've lived and all the ones to come. I prefer counting in days because, after all, that is how we live our lives, yes? In days, not years. I can recall specific days in great detail with just the slightest nudging. I can smell the smells and taste the flavors and hear the sounds of those days, as if I were there again, enjoying the moments that created such rich memories. Fun stuff indeed.
Years, on the other hand, I have some trouble with. I have a friend who can tell you the exact year of every major event in her life. She's fond of doing that. "It was 1989...and I was about to embark on....". This amazes me. Shitfire...I can't even tell you what I was doing last year, let alone 20 years ago. But that's just me.
Anyhoooo ~ I made up my mind a while back that it is the days that count, not the years. As a result, when my birthday rolls around, I find great joy in the celebrating. I'm not scared of years. I don't care about the numbers. What I care about is how I spend each and every splendid day I wake up to. I pay attention to the moments, not the weeks. I cherish ALL of them. Even the ones that aren't much fun. Because in the end, I'm quite certain that I will carry those lovely feelings with me...onto my next adventure, wherever that might be.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!