Each year, the 20th of August signaled the end to a blissful summer. Mornings sleeping in, baseball games, swimming at the local pool, wading in the creek or hiking the forbidden woods. Summer was the time I was unsupervised and allowed to wander. It was my time to be me. My birthday was the beginning of the end of all that. The dread I felt about returning to school began the day I blew out my candles.

Growing up as a scrawny little fey kid in the 60’s and 70’s gave me a particularly narrow view of the world around me. Since I was not capable of conforming, of hiding my gay self, this world view also taught me how to judge myself sharply. While at the age of fifty-seven I have a much wiser, broader world view, there are always a few little fucked up thoughts or judgements that bubble up to the surface. Thank goodness I have learned to face them and quickly release. The beauty of getting older is the realization that I am not that special, that I am pretty much just like everyone else. The need to be terminally unique has ebbed throughout my lifetime. Now I simply want to be happy.

When setting sail on my vacation last week, I made a pact with myself that I wouldn’t talk about work. There were a few instances when people asked about what I do. I tried to keep it brief and low key but invariably I would light up and begin chattering in glowing terms about my daily work life. I could feel the warmth and joy spread within my chest. That’s when I realized that I am still in love with my job. As of this date, no thing, no one has come along to make me feel as good. In some ways that makes me luckier than most.

Wishes may be the stuff of childhood yet they remind us of what we really really want. I awoke this morning to that realization. So I made a wish, and am truly thankful for the life I have been given.