Summer's over. The leaves are burning crimson on the trees and, on our nightly walks, the chill in the air forces us to pull our jackets tighter around our bodies just to stay warm.
Oh, and school is starting again.
Lately I've been thinking. A lot. Wondering what the heck I'm doing going back to college. I'm 34 years old. Technically, I'm a grown up. By society's standards, I should already be situated comfortably in my job, in the career field of my choice. Chris and I should have already popped out one kid - if not two - and, because said children need to spend time with family, we should be spending our one free week a year vacationing back in Iowa, where we grew up. I should be making decent money (as opposed to no money at all) and we should be busy planning for our kids' futures, our retirement and our next big purchase. Like a boat, or something.
That, however, is not our life.
I'm going back to school because I couldn't bear the thought of working one more job that ripped apart my soul. I couldn't spend one more day doing something that I hated; refused to spend one more night dreading the morning.
Chris and I have pushed society's wish list aside so that we can create our own.
And what's on our wish list?
Happiness.
That's a pretty small list, huh?
Our wish list doesn't contain expensive trips, a five bedroom McMansion, or even a white picket fence encompassing the 'perfect American family'. It doesn't list the newest electronic gizmo (I still don't have an active cell phone) or a vehicle straight from the 2012 production line.
Now, I'm not going to be so Buddha-like and pretend that I wouldn't accept any of those things if they were offered to me. Because I probably would. A few of them, at least. (After all, the 2012 Jeep Wrangler Call of Duty MW3 Edition is soooo choice!) And some days we'd love nothing more than to be parents to two adorable kiddos. (Mia Lisette and Samuel Dean, respectively.) :)
But let's face it. If we couldn't be happy until we got those things?? Well, let's just say we'd be living in an unfulfilled state of depression and lack for a long, long, loooong time.
Happiness, however - that's something we can have. Right now. Happy is something that we can be. At this very moment.
The sky is gray. Night closes in earlier these days. The air is crisp and cold.
And we're... happy. 
__________________
"If you want to be happy, be."-- Leo Tolstoy
My birthdays are quieter now.
Way back when, before the axis of my life shifted so abruptly, my birthdays were loud, colorful, rowdy, and full. Full of people, food, music, laughter, presents, and hugs. Because I was born as summer was dying, there was usually still enough heat and humidity left in Iowa to celebrate by throwing a grand pool party. (My mom always knew how to throw the best pool parties.) When I was really little, the attendees were mostly my parents' friends. Fun and wild, they'd park their cars in the street and flip-flop their way up our drive, around the side of the house, and through the back gate leading to our little oasis - the Wickey Family's tiny piece of heaven on earth. Truth be told, I loved those people. Always smiling, always laughing, they made my young life exciting. When my parents' friends were around, the air buzzed - literally pulsed - with excitement.
After my dad died, however, most of my parents' friends stopped coming around. Now, I'm not going to start blaming anyone or pointing fingers. I'm sure they were probably uncomfortable around Mom and I right after Dad passed, and maybe that was why they drifted away. Whatever the reason, the people that I used to see almost every day up until I turned fourteen suddenly vanished.
But that was okay. By then I had my own group of friends - both from high school and softball - and a better group of girls you'd be hard pressed to find. In fact, when my dad died, they were my lifeline. The only people who could really make me forget the pain of losing not only my dad, but my life as I'd known it. Because after my dad died, things got dark. I don't think my friends back then knew how much they helped, or even suspected how wrong things were in my life, but they were all - every single one of them - lifesavers to me. We celebrated our birthdays together, usually circled around a phone, spooning cookie dough shamelessly into our mouths and laughing big belly laughs while making prank phone calls to complete strangers. (Poor, poor Phu Van.)
Today is my birthday. There's no pool party waiting for me. No loud and rambunctious friends to celebrate with, for all of my lifesavers have gone on their separate ways. My family - what's left of it - are far away, on the other side of the country. My parents' friends have evaporated as completely as the water has in our old pool. (From what I hear it's now nothing but a dilapidated concrete hole in the ground.)
I'm not writing this post to invoke sympathy. I'm writing this post for myself. To honor birthdays past and to remember that joy and celebration can come in a multitude of ways. Whether it's twenty people laughing and lounging around a pool or a group of girls snacking on cookie dough, sharing jokes, and making - gasp - a few prank phone calls, there's no right or wrong way to celebrate a birthday.
It's whatever fits.
Tonight will be a quiet night. Chris and I will settle down for the evening like we always do - read a book, watch a movie, get lost in an episode of Supernatural. And then tomorrow we'll wake early, drive up into the mountains, and hike to our hearts' content. I'll take in the views, feel his hand in mine, and appreciate where I am in my life.
And that, just that, will be enough.
_______________________
"A birthday is just the first day of another 365-day journey around the sun. Enjoy the trip." -- Author Unknown
