What is the number 55? Is it the number on a jersey or the address of a house? Could it be just a number? Tomorrow I am turning 55 years old, so in this example it is an age, but not just any age. It is how old my father was when he died. He lived almost ten more months after that birthday, but to become the oldest age my father ever was is a strange concept. I love my birthday, and I celebrate it passionately. Ask anyone that knows me, and they will tell you that I begin my birthday countdown on July first, which is a whole two months in advance. I love to be with family and go places all weekend long, and since my birthday is usually around Labor Day Weekend, I frequently get my wish. I know that age is just a number, and I am always honest about how old I am, but this year is weird. It is more than a celebration this year. It is a reverence for life and a gratitude for each day I receive after it. My father would have given anything to have more time to be with my mom, to see his grandkids grow up, and to just to be alive. It will be a truly happy birthday to me this year because I am grateful for each day and every year. #CelebrateEveryDay
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All through my day, no matter where I go, or what I do, I am always looking for the good in people, in the world, in my life or even just in my day.