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On the Eve of My Birth

How lucky she is to be born on such a day. Most people cluck and shake their heads. "Rotten luck," they say. "Gypped on the presents." But no one she knows has ever been stingy with giving.

Is she the only one to recognize that she was born on a day of hope, in a season of hope? The winter solstice, smack dab in the middle of the Christmas season. The days are brimming with glorias and good cheer, with peace on earth, good will toward men.

This year is an odd year. Not odd as in strange, but odd, as in numbers. She thinks of the other odd years. Ten years ago, she was at the hospital with her baby, sharing birthday cake with the nurses. Twenty years ago, she was packing to go to Italy for a semester. She got married in an odd year. She graduated high school in an odd year. She graduated with her MFA in an odd year. She gave birth to her second son in an odd year.

She wonders what this year will hold for her. Something beyond the ordinary? Well, at least she hopes for it. After all, starting tomorrow the rays from the sun won't have to stretch quite so far to touch her.

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