Birthdays

We celebrated birthdays hard when I was a kid. Breakfast in bed, presents, queen for the day, and favorite foods for dinner (crab, sourdough, artichoke). In México, I garner a slice of banana pudding bread and a card from Maria, the kind server at my favorite eatery.

So far I like ageing. Less tolerant of BS. More likely to do exactly what I want when I want. Yes to yellow roses at the grocery store, and expensive eggs. Yes to trying the Samari swimmer method of treading water. Yes to writing three novels at the same time. Yes, yes, yes. 

It’s weird to see my mother’s face looking out of the mirror occasionally, though this morning it is a comfort. Had to cry a bit, missing her joie de vivre. She was a force, for sure. “You´re a hard person to say no to,” I told her several years ago in New Orleans. “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she replied.

I retrieve the jewelry box from a drawer and dig out the silver fish earrings she gave me long ago. Not much call for bling on a boat, but it’s fun to wear these danglers today.

So far the best present on this particular birthday is the too-close catamaran leaving the anchorage. Well, no. Nutella on a fresh hot crumpet probably wins that honor, though more space around Habibi is a big plus. Am I anti-social? Maybe. And scared they’ll drag into me, or I into them in the high afternoon winds. (20 knots — really? Is that absolutely necessary?) Inspired by their daughter, I may hang a swing from a halyard (heavy rope attached to the top of the mast). Looked like a lot of fun, flying around the boat. Yet another way to swing from a (Gulf)star.

Every day is an adventure, if you’re paying attention.