Today’s my birthday. Folks I know say they feel either older or younger than their actual age, which may be because most either dwell on the past or dream of the future.

I feel younger…hipper than my 43-yr-old self.

Last night to celebrate early, my husband, Josh, and I ate burgers at Art’s Place, a Fayetteville fixture and total dive with the best burgers in town. (Locals, I’m choosing Art’s Place over Hugo’s ten times out of ten, smoke and all.) Halfway through my burger and already feeling indigestion (still with me as I write), I said, “I know MTV is still on, but I haven’t thought about it in years.”

This and the indigestion are two ways I know I’m not as young or as hip as I feel…rather imagine.

My two daughters are practically grown.

But I also feel like the new-ish mother of a 1 1/2 -yr-old. Giving this nascent movement the attention it needs takes all my time. I worry too much…have sleepless nights. I am re-learning everything. I love Little Free Pantry profoundly.

Commonly applied to parenthood, the saying, “The days are long but the years are short," is a call to the present.

I don’t make New Year’s resolutions, but I do give myself gifts sometimes. I learned it from my 90-yr-old Grandma Myrtle, known to purchase, wrap, and place Christmas gifts from herself to herself under our family tree. This year for my birthday, I am giving myself the present.

Today, I am 43.