I’m so excited about my birthday this year
not because I’ve achieved everything I wanted,
But because this year feels different.
Lighter. Freer.
Like I can finally breathe again.
I’m loving life a little more,
daring more, smiling more,
chasing my muse.
I’m dreaming of horse riding,
swimming,
networking,
writing.
For the first time in a long time,
I’m planning a birthday
A perfect day, just for me.
I’m actually doing this.
My head spins with ideas
a photoshoot
getting a cake
Bicester for a little indulgence,
a river cruise,
a fragrance that feels like this season,
colors,
birthday freebies, spa day,
afternoon tea,
and maybe, just maybe, a quiet cry
because I’m finally having the best time.
But then, guilt creeps in.
And I wonder
if this means I’m forgetting my dad?
Does this mean his memory is fading?
He is the 14th.
I’m the 15th.
And here I am, making plans,
while he doesn’t get to see them.
My heart breaks.
My hands tremble.
A tear rolls down my cheek
just thinking of him.
But I know
he would want this for me.
He would hate to see me coast.
He would love to see me loving life again,
planning a great birthday,
writing, dancing, living, dreaming,
being an incurable romantic,
a crazy engineer,
an event planner,
a fantastic mum
using every talent to its fullest.
He was so proud,
even when I had barely achieved anything.
He loved how intentional I was
with everything,
everyone.
How I carried my pain,
How I loved recklessly
I miss my dad.
But this year,
I’m not shrinking,
I’m not stopping,
I’m going all in
because the best way
to honour his love
is to live mine out loud.
Happy Birthday Ayo