I remember bits and pieces from many birthdays, but I don’t really have a favorite memory. My 8th birthday was at Chuck E Cheese. I caught the chicken pox that birthday. I believe it was my 14th birthday that I had a sleepover with several girlfriends. Actually, I think I did that more that one year. My 15th I had a white cake with black writing, and the black icing left color on anything it touched.
My 16th I remember I was home alone all day with nothing to do. My 17th was a surprise at Scott’s apartment (see day two). My 18th I was in the hospital with Zach. Scott and Phil came to visit for my birthday. Umm, my 24th some friends at School got a cake and pizza and had a little party at in an empty classroom. My 27th birthday I was home with a couple of friends to watch the Tampa Bay Bucs win the Superbowl. I think on my 28th birthday I went with a few friends to Pat O’Brians at Universal City Walk. We sat in the piano bar and listened to the piano guy I’d had a fling with a few months earlier. I found out he had a new girlfriend that night. My final birthday celebration was when I turned 30 and the guy I was dating, Sean, took me out to dinner.
See, lots of little snapshots, no big outstanding memories. That’s just how my birthdays have gone.