Friday the Birth-teenth

Death Day Cake

Death Day Cake

My birthday is fast approaching and as I get older I tend to think more long term.

For most everyone who is not having a birthday, it is a day to celebrate the mere fact that a friend or loved one was born. They are saying they are glad you exist. That’s a great thing and possibly one of the furthest things from Horror you could imagine.

Yet, I dare say that to the person having the birthday, it often means none of that.

When you are young, a birthday is merely a time for presents. Who doesn’t love presents after all? Cake, Ice Cream and candles. Oh my!

Though as one ages, birthdays begin to become the events that transpire around those days.

Going places and doing things with the family. Mini-golf. A walk in the park. Warm days by the lake. A movie at the theater.

Unbeknownst to us all, we’ve just taken our first step down the dark winding stairs that lead to Horror.

Why do we prefer to do things with friends and family as we get older in lieu of getting that new crock-pot/crescent wrench? I think it’s because as we grow older we know we have less time with those we love.

When we have a birthday, it makes us realize that another year of our life has come and gone. Poof. A whisper of faint breeze.

That time is gone. We will never get it back. And to be honest, we remember very little about that last year. Including the presents.

But what do we remember? Usually what we did. It’s the reason studies show that happiness is linked not with owning the most toys but with owning the most experiences.

But there is something bigger here that is tickling the back of my brain like a fly on a horse’s behind.

It means we are exactly a year closer to our own death. And on our birthday, we know it and are forced to reflect on it.

Anything that makes us realize that our life is vulnerable trumps our hand like a joker from the Horror deck. And nothing but a birthday inspires that much consistent year after year contemplation of the woes death.

Mublablablablab! Ewww, the goose flesh.

Thanks to my birthday for showing me that there too, like a rotten fish in the frothy surf, lies Horror.

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~ by Charlie Edgar on February 9, 2012.

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