Every year, without fail, a birthday card arrives from a friend I rarely see. We started out as business colleagues over a decade ago, but over time, a quiet friendship formed — one built on mutual respect and one lovely tradition: she never forgets my birthday.

Even when life gets busy and we go months without speaking, her card still shows up. I always do my best to reciprocate — sometimes with a text, sometimes a voicemail. But I truly admire her consistency. It’s a beautiful kind of care — quiet, steady, and deeply intentional.

I’ve always believed birthdays are worth celebrating — not just mine, but everyone’s. Making a fuss isn’t about extravagance, it’s about honor. It’s saying: you matter enough for me to pause and show it.

When my kids were little, I hosted themed birthday parties right in our home. We’d match the theme to their age or current interest — from arts and crafts parties, to slumber parties, to full-on video game tournaments. And the last one? A sweet-n-spicy 16 — equal parts sugar and sass. Those birthdays weren’t just for my kids — they became memories for their friends and even their friends’ parents. Years later, when I bump into them, they still talk about those parties as real events — not just birthdays.

As an adult, I still love turning a birthday into a little escape from the ordinary. My last milestone birthday was during COVID, and though it was far from traditional, we managed to get to Aruba. It was quiet, simple, and deeply grounding.

And of course, there’s the art of gift-giving. It’s not about the price tag — it’s about the thought. The joy of remembering a wish someone shared months ago. A craving. A need they never expected you to remember. Then choosing the gift, the wrapping, the moment to give it. Even mailing it, if they’re miles away. Because who can resist the magic of an unexpected package arriving on their special day?

What I’ve learned is this: we’re never too old to celebrate being born.

That one day a year is a chance to call someone you’ve drifted from. To check in. To remember. To say, “You matter, and I’m glad you were born.”

And if you’re at a restaurant when a nearby table starts singing “Happy Birthday”?

Join in. It costs nothing. But to someone — it means everything.

Anyone else feel this way? Tell me I'm not alone!!!