December 25th, My birthday Ugh!

Well I was just sitting here thinking about birthdays. On one of my author loops they always wish people a happy birthday.
I never liked my birthday, it's X mas day. Now I didn't mind the fact that you couldn't have a party. With six siblings in one family, there weren't many parties.
But Christmas at our house was a special thing.
My father decorated every thing that could reach an outlet, inside and outside. My mother cooked a turkey the size of a small sheep, and there were burners cooking from morning to dinner, with the side dishes. With that many kids there were lots of presents in the living room. I don't know how they did it, but we all got five or six things to open; hated the clothes, loved the toys. My brothers drove some electric thing around, and someone dragged a doll or an etch a sketch around.
Though I can remember that really got me ticked was the present that was marked, 'for your Christmas birthday'. Everyone did it, but I hated my birthday. No one remembered your birthday on Christmas!
So for my whole life I felt cheated and resented it.
I am pleased to say I don't care anymore. I don't care that my birthday is on X mas, because I don't want anymore birthdays. Now when I remember, or someone else remembers it. I cringe.
Because it means I am getting older, and for me I'd prefer not to.
I'd really just as soon stay this age. I'm old enough.

What and When

I wonder what will happen in the next ten years. As I look in the mirror and see the changes. But they don't reflect the changes in my soul.
Am I a better person than I was ten years ago. God I hope so.
A smarter person, I think so.
More sensitive, I know so. When I see the changes I know what I am. Just a person like anyone else.
But if I'm really lucky, I can do something that leaves people to remember me fondly.
Even if it's just because they read my book.