I Returned to the Same Diner Every Birthday

with my name on it, everything I thought had ended quietly began once more.

When I was young, I used to smile at people who said birthdays made them sad.

I thought it was just dramatic talk, like sighing too loudly or wearing sunglasses indoors.

Back then, birthdays meant cake—chocolate cake—and that meant life felt good.

But now I understand.

These days,continue reading …