You say it’s my birthday?


Michael McGuire

Don’t feel bad if you forgot my birthday.

I didn’t remember it either. Not until I got to work this morning and a co-worker reminded me.

Nice.

Can’t say how or why I’d forget such a milestone. Birthday’s used to mean so much.

Maybe I’m too busy. Career driven and working long hours, it’s easy to forget about the things that matter most.

Maybe it’s because I’m at that age – 26 – where my mind and body are starting to go through certain “changes.” For example: Mentally, I don’t feel a day older than 15. Physically, I don’t feel a a day younger than 40. My actual age is closer to the average of the two. Just doesn’t feel right. It has my internal clock all spun around (the hot flashes haven’t come yet, but they’re not far behind).

Or maybe I’ve just gotten old and crotchety in my ways. I’ve already caught myself watching daytime episodes of “JAG” and yelling at kids who ride their bikes on the sidewalk out front after dark.

Maybe my memory’s starting to go. Sometimes I’ll dial the phone and when someone answers I have no idea who I called. It’s happening more frequently.

Or maybe I’m just an idiot who can’t remember anything unless it involves free Pabst and inner tubing.

Who knows?