Another Year Goes By

Today is my birthday.  There was a time when I was younger that birthdays made me a little uneasy. My mother was the type of woman who would lie about her age. (Maybe she still is, but I think she handles it a little differently these days.) For a long time, I thought growing older was a negative--it meant more wrinkles, more hair in the sink, more aches and pain, that sort of thing.  But when I started losing people that I loved unexpectedly, it made me realize that the reason we get presents on our birthday is partially because we have accomplished something. Not everyone gets to be 38.
My dad suddenly died at 55.  I know that the chances of dying unexpectedly are probably higher than the number of people who pass on with the idea that this is "the day," but, nevertheless, having someone so integral to my life ripped away from me with no warning was a huge wake up call to me that you shouldn't put things off.  I have accomplished a lot of things since my dad died because he reminded me that we don't always get tomorrow, next month, next year.

This year I've accomplished something I've been "meaning" to do for as long as I can remember. I wrote a book.  Actually, I wrote 5 of them--one to be released soon, the rest out in the world.  Writing a book is hard! You're responsible for the lives, thoughts, and actions of so many other "people." Whats even harder is selling books. You have to market yourself like a used car salesman. What's even harder is listening to people talk about your work like it was just spawned one day, like it didn't come from my own flesh and blood (and tears.)  But I wouldn't change it for anything, and I hope that I have a few more books on the shelf by the time I reach 39.
This year I started editing, too. There are a lot of reasons why I decided to start editing but the main one is because I hoped to meet some other new writers and form some friendships. I have definitely done that.  Of all of the birthday wishes I received today on Facebook, many of them were from fellow authors. That's awesome.  It's great to know that should I ever need to bounce an idea off of someone who feels my pain, there are lots of willing souls out there.
While I can take very little credit for this, I have also seen a huge improvement in my daughter's speech and social skills this year.  She continues to amaze me every day.  I am hopeful that by this time next year, she will have made even more progress and eventually we will be saying, "Autism who?" or the equivalent thereof.
There are some things I wanted to do this year that just didn't happen--as always. I traveled some but not enough. I didn't see my siblings as much as I would have liked to.  I am in better shape but not the best.  I still want another dog! But, I am optimistic that I will get an entire 39th year to work on those things. And if I don't, perhaps they aren't as important as I thought.
We never know what the next moment brings. Let us embrace each one as it comes.  To my friends and family who have wished me a happy birthday, I say thank you. And thank you for being in my life. To those of you who are reading this wondering if they will ever write that book--just write it.  Get the words down. That's the easiest part, believe me. Once it's down, the rest will come. To the readers who have enjoyed my work, thank you so very much for giving deeper purpose to the art I love to create.  I would still write even if no one reads it, but the fact that people do read what I write not only inspires me, it humbles me as well.  Here's to the 39th year being the best one yet!