I have started and stopped this post quite a few times today. It’s my thirty seventh birthday and 2020 is so bad that I’m honestly thankful to even be here, to be able to see the people I love, and to live in a world where we can stay connected to each other during this strange time.

I accidentally took this selfie when I was trying to answer a phone call a few months ago. I had my phone propped up listening to an audio book and pressed something to take a picture while I was trying to accept the call. When I went to delete the picture, I actually loved it. Looking at it, I saw a pretty authentic version of myself.

And that’s what 37 is for me. An age where I feel most myself.

I’m ready for another trip around the sun and I appreciate every text, phone call, surprise gift, card, and the two beautiful bouquets of flowers that I received on this snowy day.

I helped my kids with homework, refused to do any laundry, sewed myself a dress, made chicken and dumplings, and ate the last piece of birthday cake my mom made for me over the weekend.

I will be kissing all my kids goodnight and telling them how much I love them and how much I love my new fuzzy slippers. Then I’m making a hot cider, adding a little Fireball to it, and snuggling up to Chris on the couch to watch something on tv.

Like I posted on Instagram. 37 and honestly feeling damn good about it.

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