writing all birthday long
Here are the birthday plans we made:
Andy would pick me up at the airport and then we’d spend the afternoon together, probably in a bookstore and an ice cream shop. I would buy a new notebook since my current one is almost filled. We would go home and order steaks from our favorite local bar that grills them over charcoal. We’d eat at home and then he’d watch baseball and I’d write. And (get this) we are kid-less until Saturday.
It’s like the perfect birthday plans, right?
Instead, I’ve been in the Detroit airport since 9:02 am.
I’ve had four fights cancelled.
Andy is still coming to pick me up at the airport…only he’s driving a bit farther than expected. We aren’t spending time in book stores or ice cream shops and I probably won’t buy a new notebook today (although I do have my eye on a new coffee mug, since Franki said I should go shopping). And I’ve spent the day writing.
That’s not so bad for a birthday, right?
Here’s the view from here —
It’s all about making the best of things. I can’t control weather and airplane maintenance and flight cancellations. I can control my attitude. And I’m kinda happy I get to spend the day writing and reading and walking and meeting new people. (Plus I’ve decided to look at this birthday as one year past 35 as opposed to four years from 40.)
Life is good. And in a few hours will be much better since I’ll be sitting beside Andy on the almost four hour drive home. Hey, maybe we’ll even stop for ice cream!
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