Almost 36 years ago I was born in Santa Monica to two very young and very beautiful people. My dad thought I was ugly, but of course he quickly fell in love.
I was a Thanksgiving baby and a Scorpio.
My first birthday cake was a pumpkin, and for many years that followed that pumpkin I was surprised with a thanksgiving-appropriate cake...pilgrims, turkeys, fall leaves...you name it.
My dad remarried around my 6th or 7th birthday, and just when I thought everyone had forgotten, a little old lady from church stuffed a dollar bill in my flower girl basket. I will always remember her. A day or two later, my dad took me shopping for my first brand new bike...my prized Schwinn. He's not the best at remembering dates, but he's one of the best at making you feel loved and important.
Disneyland with friends on my 16th, and Hawaii on my 18th, my mom has always made sure I was fussed over and spoiled for my birthday. She is usually more excited about my birthday than I am.
Two birthdays in my twenties were spent in Vegas...both unforgettable.
I've only been surprised once with a cake, my 30th, at Lisa's house. Birthdays 31 through 35 are a bit blurred with nursing school and mommy brain, but were very special in a whole new way.
When I wake up tomorrow, I doubt I will feel any different. Honestly, I hope I feel exactly the same.
I am proud. I am hopeful. As I approach the Thanksgiving holiday, I feel very very grateful.