I look into the mirror, see a line I couldn’t have drawn more perfectly just below my right eye. It looks like the road that took me down the wedding aisle, the labor and delivery hallway, and led me to the school of experience. It bends like the road that leads to gray hair and pruning perennials grown some 40 years, planted the year we decided our family was complete.
I revel in the day: cards and gifts in bed, everyone up and dressed early so we can go to the Farmer’s Market to eat fresh muffins and just-picked strawberries; a stop at a park, trying out the monkey bars and being proud I can swing from the first to the second; an almost-t-ball game, chased away by lightning and thunder and aluminum bats; a perfect afternoon crafting, watching movies and eating popcorn, napping, and waking up to fresh steaks and paper-thin peppered potatoes; and of course, my favorite birthday cake. Perfection. Yes, 36 is promising already.