Despite a concerted effort through most of my life to make sure this never happens, I believe that today there might be a few people who love me who have forgotten that it’s my birthday.

If there are, though, there aren’t many. I have been overwhelmed with birthday greetings and salutations from before I awoke til just now, via text, zoom, email, phone, and facebook. I am so incredibly grateful to be thought of kindly by so many people. It has truly been a day to receive love and celebrate my still being alive after sixty-four years. And yes, as only one friend asked, I’ve had that Beatles’ song going through my head all day.

A gentle snow fell off and on all day, and I started a fire first thing because when it’s cold and grey outside, it’s pretty chilly inside. The cake I was so proud of not un-panning last night was impossible to get out this morning. All that butter had congealed and glued it to the bundt pan. So I set it on top of the woodstove for a few minutes, and it popped right out. It is delicious. Here’s the recipe for any NYT Cooking subscribers. I can see all kinds of variations on this in the future, like using lemon extract instead of vanilla, and making a lemon syrup to saturate it… or maple syrup syrup… I’m grateful I have a few neighbors to share it with.

I’m grateful that I received a few gifts–and doubly grateful that there were only a few. I have been trying desperately for years to once and for all finally declutter my house, which got out of hand long ago when I brought home so much of the ancestral stuff after mom, and later dad, died. Please friends, when your parents go, relinquish attachment to their stuff! I’ve prolonged a sorry task that’s become a real burden. Attachment creates suffering. See something you want in my house? Please take it! Except for my birthday presents. And for some reason, every single one of them was kitchen related.

I’m grateful that the universe granted me this precious day that will never come again, to relax, and receive love, and enjoy the gifts of this particular life in this precise moment. Everything changes all the time. I may not live to see another birthday. Death is certain, time of death uncertain. We each have our unique way of seizing the day, and mine, this day, was to relax into and allow the simple quiet joy of contentment and gratitude.