Cashmere, diamonds and red wine.

Happy birthdays stand before all other days of celebrations,

Mothers day, Fathers day, Christmas or Anniversaries.

It is the foremost of all milestones second to none except death.

The beginning and the end, the alpha omega.

It is the day you are happy to be aware for another year.

Birthdays are a curious thing.

When we are babies we are excited to be one year older because of all the things we are older to do. First, Kindergarten, then ride a bike, cross the street alone, drive a car or go on your first date – Being 21. The ultimate excitement is being grown enough to have that unimaginable age’s responsibility.

Then as the years of birthdays go by they become steamrollers. Moving faster than we want them to. We dread them for what we once loved ….. the taste of age. And so we begin to put them aside with a grumble and dismissive twinges of sorrow. As 30 approaches then 40 and OMG 49 they become suffocating whispers on the edge of infinite doom. If you are were anything like me some of them were met with meteoric episodes. So I lied about them.

My daughter thought I was nineteen when I was forty. She counted. 20, 21, 22, shite. …a constant reminder of the ultimate evasion. Did I really need to educate her? Maybe I could look into that.

The selfish nish of age had descended in that way which blinds you. It was a joke amongst my family. My nephews who were much older than her were forbidden to tell. Curtailed with the saying “a gentleman never asks or reveals a lady’s age. Until the day I had to tell. A day unwarranted, but freedom. An acceptance of me, my experience , my achievement and my purpose of being. I survived it all (some day I will tell it all) I was doing myself a disservice by not glorying the gifts I had been given. I was living as a reluctant survivor…of what? Life?/ Ludicrous! Mitigating the small yet monumental victories of knowledge, love laughter smiles, tears. Breath.

Do you know the movie Postcards from the Edge with Meryl Streep and Shirley Maclaine (my heroines)? Their portrayal of the formidable duo. Carrier Fisher and Debbie Reynolds. Well there is that one scene where Shirley (Debbie) gets on the Piano and sings … belts out a rendition of “I’m still here” by Stephen Sondheim from the 1971 musical Follies, a top the piano in her living room.

I am she her them and I’m still here. Gloriously still here!

So Happy birthday Dianne with cashmere, red wine and diamonds.

“I’m still here”

Ps…..

Does anyone have a piano I could borrow?