When I was nearly 18, a fellow high school senior from Buffalo lost his battle with cancer. His passing was my first encounter with death among peers, and it struck me deeply. It was a stark reminder that time is not guaranteed, urging me to seize each moment fully. Surprisingly, I think of him often; that funeral left an indelible mark on me. Every birthday, I reflect on his memory, believing that the best way to honor those who’ve departed is to live fiercely and gratefully.
Each of us has a birthday—the day we entered this world. I celebrate mine with unapologetic enthusiasm, recognizing each year as a precious gift. This morning, my beloved served me a piping hot Americano and took care of packing lunches and prepping for school, allowing me to quietly savor Onyx Storm by Rebecca Yarros, which I finished before the car line. Returning home, I sat in my favorite chair—tattered by our cat’s claws—and gazed around my home. Every nick on the wall from a rambunctious child and each pile of dishes signifies a real, busy, and beautiful life, filling me with gratitude.
This year, instead of making numerous plans, I’ve chosen to set clear priorities. There’s no bold reclaiming or reinventing, just living. I’ve resolved to live kindly, authentically, and fully—to the point of taking my own breath away—and to openly appreciate the angels around me who inspire and elevate everything.
To birthdays. To life. To the opportunity to age. To wisdom gained. And to the boy who left the world too soon, reminding me never to take health, life, and love for granted. Honor someone and be true to yourselves, my friends.
For the love of all that is holy, celebrate your birthday with childlike wonder and joy.
The Forty Files 