I just spent a significant amount of time licking icing off a napkin, debris left from surprise cupcakes from The Sis-in-Law. This after a buttery, cheesy, salty grits breakfast and a snack of coffee and chocolate chip cookie. So…yes. Yes, I am having a great birthday. Thanks for asking.

This past year has been full of Major Life Events. The Husband and I decided, why not? Let’s just pack it all in. So I turned thirty-three (Jesus year!), got married, started a new life in a new city, became a co-godparent with TH to The Niece, bought a house (okay, TH did that), and got knocked up (guess he did that too). Oh, and lost my job and sent out letters to literary agents and got rejected by some who wrote back! And the other night, when I received the email telling me I would not, in fact, be paid what I was owed, I felt the steam and blood pressure rising within; the familiar self-righteous vigilante justice button was pressed. And then, instead of resorting to the usual–high-pitched “how could she!” protestations and insults and threats and gnashing of teeth, I simply looked to my left, where TH sat. And I looked down, where The Kid sits. And for maybe the first time in my life, I thought about all I have instead of what I don’t. And I took a deep breath of gratitude and laughed. (And maybe muttered the word whore. But the laughing was louder.)

There is always something to celebrate, and always something to mourn. For so much of my life it was easier to see what was missing. What I thought I was waiting for, or was being denied. I have spent birthdays wishing for flowers, wondering when/if HE would show up, crying in my solitude, even begging the diarrhea to go away (in Italy, but still). This year, there are unknowns. There is a lawyer looking at my case. There are agents taking a pass. There is cutting back.

And there is so much more. There is the doorbell that just rang, the flowers delivered. I wondered if they would show up this year–we’re supposed to be watching our wallets, plus we’re married anyway, so aren’t the generous overtures supposed to taper off? But no. There are roses, there is a baby kicking, there will be sand in our toes next weekend, and there is a plan greater than my own. Grace always shows up, we just have to open the door.