It shouldn’t be called a birthday. It should be called a Life Day.
A birthday already implies a celebration of that life. A birthday should – and can – celebrate that more boldly. Life should be celebrated 365 or 366 times a year. No, revised: maybe one should celebrate life more than once a day. Celebration, or at least commemoration, should keep happening. Because life – and, in ’Wise’s case, a good life – keeps occurring.
Each day really brings some anniversary of some milestone. This day x years ago: you mastered a skill you can no longer remember having to learn. That day y years ago: you lovingly kissed the closest person in your life for the 1,000th time. Still another day z years ago: a friend of yours thought of you without you knowing it and thought I’m glad I know her.
Other anniversaries of milestones have taken place, some silently, some loudly: your first really successful telling of a joke. Your first sale of an article. The writing of your first poem that made (or would later make) a stranger cry. The first spark of a new friendship. The first spark of a new love. Your first mind-blowing Thai food. Your finding anew the confidence to (as the slogan says) dance like no one is watching. And, as many of us mark, the first time you breathed air.
The milestones of life keep happening. Life itself keeps happening.
Happy birthday, Mia. Keep learning, loving, and laughing. Keep celebrating. And keep making life worth celebrating.