Yesterday was my birthday. Another year to celebrate my very existence. To simply honor my accomplishments for the past year. I would have seized the moment had I not put my yoga pants on inside out. Yep. I started the first day of my 53rd year not being able to dress myself. I made it worse by attempting to put my cellphone in my pocket over and over again thinking “what the hell is the issue with this pocket”. The issue was the pocket was on the inside of my pants and I had been walking around for two hours oblivious. Maybe it is a good omen. At least, that is a what I am telling myself.

While this year has been a tad unconventional with its pandemic, a movement to change racial injustice, peppered with the anticipation of murder hornets, my personal journey has been filled with goodness. I finished writing a book and have delivered it to three literary agents. My patience for waiting is sparse, but I have the next book in the series grabbing my attention in the meantime. I have maintained my sustainable lifestyle initiative where I am in better shape physically,, than I was in my forties. Both of these are huge since I am really incredibly lazy. Seriously. I have commitment issues when it comes to completing long-term tasks. But, in the last year, my focus has been laser sharp because the fear of failure diminished. You see, failure lies in the lack of attempt. I don’t want to leave this planet with a bunch of “what ifs”.

The rest of my day unfolded with various surprises from some beautiful people, and the celebrations will continue as I gather with some of my amazing friends in the coming days.. My life is incredibly blessed. I look forward to seeing what the year has in store. Of course, I am talking personally, because the outside world is really kind of fucked-up.