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Writer's picturePaula F. Hill

My Belly Button Birthday song goes like this...


May the next twelve months offer the courage I need to accept; love, a big wet kiss, hoards of laughter, baskets of prosperity, oodles of great wine and luscious meals, and plenty of creativity.

The years canter forward, seemingly wrought with brakelights, scaffolding that doesn't hold, thwarted expectations, innumerable mis-adventures, and then, I turn to take a longer gander.

There are several standing ovations, notes of quavering thanks, words of great sentiment, long adoring hugs, wide-eyed admiration, a stream of empathy from strangers, more than one prosperous business endeavor, surprising cash donations, unexpected charming gifts, and unsolicited affection.

I turn the tables, my friends, and note the "GOOD LIFE" button's enabled. Honor the audience. Ignore the "unfriend" or "unsubscribe" notifications. Take inventory.

I cry about the gaping lack I feel in the whisper of my birthday.

Allow myself the tears, that eventually Shape Shift into Glee.

I'm healthy, outdoors in the sunshine, eating an amazing meal, able to read my book without the help of cheaters, order cake for dessert with an extra glass of wine, and blow out the candle in one breath. I don't spill on my white pants.

And I breathe.

Happy BIRTHDAY to ME!

Thanks for letting me share.

Comment if you care to, this is your space too!

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