My birthday is two weeks away.
Normally, birthdays aren’t a big deal for me — just another year older and hopefully an acknowledgement from my family, some cake, and ordering in some Indian food. My expectations are needfully low – high ones result in big disappointments, and I struggle to keep on top of my mood and anxiety as it is without creating the opportunity for failure.
This year is harder, though. This year I turn 40.
I have been reflecting on what this means for me, but I keep circling back to thinking about my brother. He would be turning 37 exactly two weeks after my birthday.