So I guess this is growing up

I've had costume parties, hamburger cakes, coffee martinis and schmoo pie misadventures. But this year, all I wanted for my birthday was peace.


I fell silent as we sat under the magnolia tree at the Fat Cat Wine Bar, me sipping a delightful Gewurtztraminer (I'm intent on squeezing the most out of what white-wine-weather remains), T a "bold and manly" red. 
After a moment, I began ruminating on the power of birthdays in making one quietly take stock of one's life.
"Are you sitting there with a list of what you should be doing, or should have achieved by now?" T asked. It's an appropriate question. Heaven knows, I've pounded him with such doubts and assertions plenty of times before now.
I looked inside myself, and discovered what had been puzzling me throughout the day.
The yardstick is gone.
I smiled with a newly-acknowledged serenity. He smiled back. "I'm so glad to hear it."


As we I strolled through the early-evening sunshine, hand in hand, it was exactly, utterly perfect. No big celebration. No demanding party. Just he and me. 
Birthdays rock.