Friday the 13th

I woke up from a restless sleep just as the bedside lamp died. Darkness settled in, save for the hint of dawn by the closed glass windows. The wind howled. The rain thundered.
And, as if to keep up with the theme of the day, my apartment flooded after a few hours.

It was a wild day. My birthday.

There were 5 calls
35 text messages
1 long-winded indecent proposal
1 missed birthday dinner
3 missed margaritas
1 cigarette
1 cold shower
13 hours of sleep

Today, July 14th, I woke up to the sun shining, the birds chirping, and the trees still standing on their roots. The air smelled cleaner and the leaves were greener somehow. Seemed like the storm was over.

As I looked out the garden window and contemplated the puddles of water, I wondered, is it safe yet? Should I start cleaning up? Should I reconsider that one indecent proposal? Should I answer those missed calls and messages now? Is the storm really over?

A hundred more questions raced through my head even as my body simply reveled in the crisp early morning. Finally, I decided to stop. Just stop. Stop the questioning, stop the planning. For today, there’s only one good thing to do: go to the beach and party all night.

Here on this island, it’s never too late to celebrate your birthday.