Tomorrow is my birthday. Tomorrow I turn 34; no great milestone, no lavish plans, no party or gifts to open. Just another day that marks the passage of time. Long gone are the childhood birthdays shared with my twin, one half of the birthday cake pink and one half purple. No turning sweet 16, although I admit I wasn’t so sweet and probably didn’t do anything for that one anyways. Long past the rush of turning 18 and the excitement of becoming an adult. A distant memory now of turning 21 – although I was an engaged mother, so that wasn’t nearly the celebration of most. Four years since I left my 20’s behind with good friends, food and salsa music. Six more years until the dreaded 40 and the oncoming empty-nesting to follow too quickly after. Tomorrow is my birthday. I’ll wake up early, head to the gym, get to work by 8, hope nobody brings in donuts to ruin my attempt at healthy eating. I’ll come home to my sweet girls and likely some homemade cards and hopefully they’ll try extra hard to not argue with each other and clean up the house.