These Days

The end of the year is bittersweet. Some good times, but another year gone. In what has become a yearly tradition we hang out with the McIlmoyles. Where else, in a bar?

Then, in something that I hope will become a tradition, we hit the bowl game in Nashville.

Freezing our keisters off in the open stadium in around 25 degrees, you find out how much you really love each other.

Thinking back on the past few days, and over the past year, I was moved to create a first for this blog. I wrote a short poem.
 

Lucky.

Today I found myself thinking back to the last few birthdays,

Trying to remember if they were special in any way.

This day is supposed to be all about me.

But there was nothing that stood out, nothing that I could see.

At first I wondered, why didn’t I do something to celebrate?

Why didn’t I make an effort to make my birthday great?

Then I realized my birthday is just like any other day.

And those other days are perfect in every way.

How will I spend this most precious of days?

Like the other 364, I’ll spend it in exactly the same way.