celebrate

August 1st, 2026. My 54th birthday. A day like any other, planned with precision to be exactly that. Booked time off from my two part time jobs. It’s a long weekend in my neck of the woods, and as a birthday present to myself, I added a day or two to the long weekend. I am moving at a snail’s pace, which is odd for me. My family has a running joke. “You complete your to do list by 9am. What are you going to do with the rest of your day?”, so, it’s safe to say, this is not my norm.

The past seven summers have been a blur, between moments that could have changed my life forever, lockdowns, getting Covid for my 50th birthday, job changes, job losses, care taking and losing track of doctor appointments and hospital visits, it’s all become a blur and the past seven years have all melted together into this big memory blob. Who knew I’d be thankful for Facebook memories and Instagram archives, if not for them, I’d have no idea what happened when and where.

I woke up to no alarm, with hot coffee waiting for me. My favorite perfume wrapped and waiting for me, Clinique Happy. The sun pouring through all the windows. Messages from loved ones, texts wishing me the best of days. Those wishes came to fruition, as it was the best of days. Slow and steady, visiting my folks, weekly grocery store run, a walk with my daughter, our favorite dinner and a chocolate McCain cake. I couldn’t have asked for more.

All day yesterday, my mind kept wandering back to this thought, why is it we only wish people the best of days on special occasions, like birthdays, anniversaries and weddings? Don’t get me wrong, being remembered with well wishes on my birthday was wonderful, and I treasure those who took time out of their day to remember me. I keep finding myself going back to my thought yesterday, why do we wait for celebrations to wish those we know to have “the best day ever!”. I think we should offer such well wishes everyday.

Think how wonderful it would be to hear “Hope today is your best day ever!” on a Monday as you’re about to present a new idea to your boss. “May all your wishes come true today!” as you’re wheeling a loved one to another appointment at the hospital. “Make a wish!” as your strolling through a park looking up at the trees swaying in the breeze. How wonderful to hear your phone ring and to hear “Wanted to call quick and wish you a wonderful day! Love you!” on a Wednesday afternoon, just because.

The world lost a beautiful soul last week. Glen Hansard. I’ve been listening to his music on repeat. At first it made me cry. Now it fills me with hope. I can’t explain it, it just does. Listening to his music, I find myself remembering myself – a journey I’ve been on a while now. Maybe it’s my age, maybe it’s the state of the world, maybe it’s menopause, our 50’s are weird. I find myself returning to myself, the me who I was before the world got at me. The me who celebrated everything, for everyone, from birthdays to conquering a new recipe or facing a fear as big as a career change to as small as climbing to the top of a ladder. Something in me always wanted to make people feel seen, to stand up to the bully, to celebrate any and all accomplishments. Not every day can be the best of days, but I do believe as a child believes in fairies, that we can make at least one moment of everyday the best of days for ourselves and for others. Holding the door. Smiling as you walk by another. An “You’re Awesome!” gif sent to a friend. A memory sent to remind others of a great time. An iced coffee that’s the perfect color – if you know, you know.

As I type this, it’s raining outside. The kind of rain that makes you want to stay home with a cup of tea, a cozy blanket and a good book. It’s like Mother Nature got my memo about slowing down. I’m wearing my birthday present. Clinique Happy. A scent I adore and gave up in my 30’s for a reason I cannot fathom. Fresh Lemonade on my desk as I write. My wordsmith playlist playing. A cardinal landing beside my window for the flash of a second – hi Gramma. The best of days. I wish the same for you.

I woke to the sounds of birds chirping and the faint glow of the sunrise peeping through my window. It’s Sunday morning on my part of the globe. As I sit in my kitchen by my window, I feel the warmth of the summer sun, the morning breeze cooling my shoulders. I see the steam rising off my fresh cup of coffee in my favorite mug and all is right with the world. As I was gazing out my window, wondering what to write about today, my mind was flooded with all the conversations I had with customers this week. As you know, I decided to take the offer of returning to the shoe store I once worked at. In the past I was in charge of the Ladies section. This time around, I am once again in the Ladies section, without the hassles of management. I go in four days a week and all I have to do is focus on selling and helping the customers, and it’s wonderful.

This past week, I lost count of the women who spoke poorly of themselves, and unfortunately of others. Women of all ages. Thinking their ankles were too thick to wear a strappy sandal. Women who thought they were too old to wear red heels. Women who thought their bunions were too ugly so they only wore running shoes so no one would see their feet. Women who thought their feet were too wide for the gold ballerina flat they adored. Women who thought their calves were too big or too slender. Women who thought their baby toe looked weird. What it all came down to was they were all worried about what others would think, never once giving a thought to what they themselves thought. Almost all of the women who were concerned about their “problem area” had one thing in common, someone had told them it was a “problem area”. One woman in particular stands out. She found a pair of sandals, flat with a little bow. I told her they looked really cute on her, because they did. She looked up at me, eyes sparkling, smiling ear to ear and said “I love them!”. Minutes later, I saw her putting them back in the box and returning them to the shelf. “Did you need another size?” I asked. “No. My friend said they were too young for me and I just look foolish.”. No smile and the sparkle in her eyes had vanished. She ended up sitting in a chair waiting on her friend. She didn’t want to look anymore or try on anything else.

First and foremost, Ladies and Gents, don’t do that. Don’t. One of the cruelest actions is putting your own insecurities on someone else. When you see that someone is happy or excited about a decision be excited for them, celebrate with them. Secondly, for all those out there, Ladies and Gents alike, stop worrying about the size of your ankles, your calves, your bunions, whatever it may be, stop worrying about what other people think. Trust me, no one is looking…and for the few who are, give them a copy of Knitting for Dummies and tell them to get a new hobby. Seriously, if they have time to look for thick ankles and bunions, their lives must be pretty empty and their self esteem and image is dwindling to say the least.

Be your own kind of beautiful, today and everyday. Be kind. Celebrate others achievements and choices, for they are theirs, not yours to deal with. Oh, and buy the shoes.