Yesterday was my daughter’s and my birthday. As long as I can add and subtract, I will know how old I am because she was born the day I turned twenty-five. She was the best birthday present ever.

As I add another year to my age, it is far too easy to look back and think what the heck—more than a half-century has passed since my mother, who had five girls, walked into the hospital room with a beautiful pink appliquéd quilt, and said, “I just knew it was going to be a
girl.”

I took the two of us on a mystery trip for our birthday this year. It was a mystery for my daughter anyway. She always does such sweet things for me on our birthdays, and I decided it was my turn to treat her. I’m treating myself too—I’m excited to hang out with just her.

I am writing on aging for the second week, so please patronize me as I ponder life. For many reasons, birthdays can take us to yesterdays.

As I look back and evaluate, contemplate, smile, and cringe, I think of Willie’s song, “There’s nothing I can do about it now.” I, too, have lost and won. I regret the pain I caused others and celebrate the pleasures of the fantastic people I’ve met and loved, plus the earned, gifted, or
serendipitous experiences. My memories make me shake my head as I smirk, smile, and belly laugh. What a great ride, and oh, the lessons I’ve learned—and learned—and learned.

I take responsibility and credit myself for my life’s choices, but I also thank the hundreds of individuals who crossed my path and who I’ve etched in my brain in full-color detail. Many of them are those of you who take the time to read this column and

let me know you enjoy what I write. Your feedback keeps me writing. As I write, I pretend we are sitting at the kitchen table with cups of coffee. Isn’t that where the best conversations happen?

As I close down my rambling thoughts, I hope when your birthday rolls around, you, too, take time to reminisce about past years and the many rainbows and thunderstorms you enjoyed and survived. Trust your experiences and share the wisdom you’ve gained. Speak or write down the words, but mainly teach by being your best example.

My mental health tip: When you evaluate your given family, chosen friends, and lessons learned, what you remember are the people and events that caused a fire in your belly or increased your heart rate. Mainly, I hope your memories make you also smirk, smile, and belly laugh.

Until the next time: Live while you live.

Jennifer Goble, Ph.D., LPC, is the author of “My Clients…My Teachers,” and the blogger and writer of Rural Women Stories: www.ruralwomenstories.com.

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