Thirty-eight

Tomorrow is my final day of being 38 years old.

After tomorrow, I’ll never be 38 again.

Ever.

I realized that fact tonight as I was thinking about things. And what I figured out is this: while I’ll never be 38 again after tomorrow, I’m not even promised 39. If I’m lucky, I’ll have 365 days of being 39 — like I’ve had each year of my life.

I look back at the last several years of my life. Am I happy with every single moment? No. Am I happy with most of them? I’m lucky enough to say yes, especially the past few years.

Each and every day is a gift — because not one of us are promised we’ll be here the next day. It’s not morbid, it’s a fact. This life is never predictable.

Tonight i posted this question on my personal Facebook account: “Tomorrow is my final day of being 38. How shall I celebrate?”

I got several answers from pampering myself to getting myself a treat.

After much thought here is what I plan on doing tomorrow.

I’m going to go to work like I normally do. I’m going to laugh and smile and spend my day with some of the most amazing, dedicated and hard-working co-workers I’ve ever had the honor of working with. We’ll laugh. We’ll get the job done. We’ll all go home.

Then I plan on going home and spending time with those I love. Living this amazing life I’ve been given with the amazing people I have the true honor of spending my time with.

That’s what I shall do tomorrow. On the eve of my 39th birthday I shall celebrate this life — celebrate another day on this Earth — another day I was gifted.

Because another one is never promised us.

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