So, I was born on a February 7th, many many February 7ths ago.
And every year I’m forced to nod, grin and look happy on February 7th as others celebrate my birthday in front of me.
Some even kindly remind me how many February 7ths I have lived. They do this by giving me cards with the numbers on.
Urgh.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not being negative about them, just the numbers.
With each reminder of how many birthdays I’ve had, I am reminded that I have less and less to have. There are many more February 7ths that I have lived than I will live.
Yep, one day there will be a February 7th that I won’t be ‘celebrating’ in person. I’ll be dead and buried. Well, burnt.
That’s more than a little scary. I enjoy not being dead yet, and being still alive on February 7th.
England's England 