I’ve had a lot of them, birthdays, that is. I remember what I was doing on a few of them. On my 40th, our youngest daughter and I painted a panther head in the Basket ball center circle of the small school our daughters attended.
Another birthday I spent it sitting alone by the hospital bed of my sleeping cowboy in a big city hospital after his air ambulance ride following a really serious wreck on horseback. Another I spent at YWCA after being so spitting mad at him I swore I was going to leave.
Usually it’s just too hot and the bugs are horrible, my most unfavorite time of year. This year the bugs aren’t too bad. The scenery is pretty. I’d still about chew my arm off to be back home on the prairie, riding lease, hot and tired and fighting flies. I know that’s not going to happen.
But maybe, I could wish when I blow out the candles this year.