BOOTS.

I’m that oddball who doesn’t like birthdays.

It’s not that they’ve ever done anything to me—I just somehow tend to avoid them.

And it’s not because I mind getting older.

Actually, I’m quite happy to carry the “weight” of my years.

Every birthday, I find myself repeating the same little prayer:

“Would I trade it…?”

And every single time, when I honestly answer myself,

“No. There’s nothing I’d trade it for,”

I feel completely at peace.

I just celebrated another birthday.

No cake.

No candles.

Just out in the countryside.

Barefoot.

Instead of a handbag, I had a bucket slung over my arm for the fish we’d just caught.

And on my head was a funny little children’s cap, protecting me from the first long-awaited sunshine so it wouldn’t leave my face sprinkled with new age spots.

“What would you like for your birthday?” my husband asked a few days before the big day.

Usually I mumble something like,

“Oh, nothing… I already have everything…”

before eventually settling on,

“Maybe another bottle of perfume…?”

This time, I answered without a second’s hesitation:

“Crocs.”

“What? Rubber boots?” he asked, convinced he’d misheard me.

“Yep. Rubber boots,” I confirmed.

“But nice ones, okay? In my color. And with those fun little charms.”

On the morning of my birthday,

I received exactly what I’d dreamed of.

A pair of Crocs—with a little heart charm that read:

“You’re my soulmate.”

A bottle of sparkling wine.

And a cocktail.

“It couldn’t be more me,” I said, genuinely delighted.

Well…

Actually…

There were also two extra charms: a glowing butterfly and a glitter-filled heart.

Seeing my expression, my beloved quickly explained:

“They had a promotion. Buy three, get two free… so I just took them.

I figured that if you didn’t like them, maybe Patrikas would.”

Mykolas declared they were

“very glamorous.”

Dominykas was simply happy that I would finally stop borrowing his Crocs.

I tried convincing Patricija to take the two charms I wasn’t entirely sold on.

She politely declined.

So…

I stuck those on my new dusty-rose Crocs too.

They’re lovely.

And every day they’ll remind me of my forty-first birthday.

After such a wonderfully carefree weekend in the countryside,

after receiving the Crocs I’d been dreaming about—with their tiny declaration of love—

and after reading everyone’s birthday wishes,

I found myself thinking today:

How wonderful it is to carry the “weight” of the years.

To know what I want.

To celebrate the way I enjoy celebrating,

instead of the way other people think I should.

And most importantly,

to hear all the beautiful wishes,

say “thank you,”

and not feel the need to set another list of goals or grand strategic plans for the year ahead.

Instead…

to simply enjoy this moment.

And to run everything through one simple filter:

“God, please leave everything just as it is.”
Could life be better?

More?

More perfect?

More ideal?

Maybe.

But…

I can happily live without all of that.