Inasmuch I’d LOVE that to be a current picture of me, that’s when I turned 18 or 19  – when gold velvet chairs, shallow bowled champagne glasses, and apparently dropped shoulder sweaters were in style.

I have a funny story to share with you all.

I wrote to my friend Colette on January 20th, to wish her a happy birthday. I said to her, “Imagine! We are 45 years old!”

To which she replied along the lines of, “Hold your horses, I’m only 44, and aren’t you turning 44 in 5 days?”.

I wrote back to my friend, a friend who I have known since Grade 1, “Isn’t that funny!? I always thought you and I were born in the same year.”.

To which she replied, “In 1967! … Right?”.

When I got this last message, I sat there stunned. Then erupted into a huge doubled-over belly laugh. For the past year, you see, I thought I was already 44!

I have just been handed over a year. The best birthday gift ever. Although I have always told myself “age doesn’t matter – it’s how you feel”, I have to be honest, and tell you the immense joy I felt at learning I was year younger than I thought was something I had never felt before! I was positively giddy with excitement.

Mom, thank you for having me, and keeping me, all these years. I know there are days you told me I was found in a cabbage patch, threatened to leave me behind in shopping malls and campgrounds, but I’m glad you hung on to me. XOXOXO