I do not have a great track record with my birthday.
As someone who is accident prone, I can’t even begin to tell you how many birthdays I’ve spent with my arm tied up in a sling. (Seriously, I can’t. But it’s a lot.)
So when I found out my birthday fell on a Saturday this year, I was a little excited. Okay, a lot excited. It was going to be great! I was going to have an all-day party with my friends, maybe karaoke and putt-putt golf, and then I was going to have dinner with my family…
I had plans. Grand plans. And then they all came crashing down with one sentence.
“You know your birthday falls on Greek Easter this year, right?” my sister told me while we were out at a family dinner one night.
Why, God? Whyyyyyy?
