Last year, I was sitting in a crowded dining hall full of students yelling the birthday song in my direction, a tradition I'll never be used to.
"What's your goal for this year?" asked Travi, our local Californian birthday announcer.
I opened my mouth.
"Growth," came a voice that didn't belong to me.
I agreed with him because I had stars in my eyes, a trend I'd later regret.
This year, there was food to celebrate at my house church. Then there was pizza, cake, and presents at home tonight with my mom and dad. We watched my new copy of The Incredibles together, and I quoted nearly every line to myself over a bowl of ice-cream. Everything was perfect.
A Blue Blood Moon hung overhead a few hours ago. I couldn't sleep last night, so I sat up Indian style in a nest of warm blankets and stared at the lesser light washing in through the blinds. The last picture below is barely a ghost of how incredible it looked.
Maybe this is my youth and inexperience talking, but for a while there, February 2nd was beginning to feel like just another day. This time, it feels different.