©2025 Myrna Urmanita. All Rights Reserved.
This morning, I woke to my iPhone filling with notifications—friends and family sending birthday wishes from near and far.
Today, August 12, I am 77 years old.
As the messages kept coming, I found myself thinking about what a birthday really means. It isn't simply another year passing, or another candle added to the cake. Maybe birthdays are really about something else—something that belongs to more than just the one whose name is on the cake. Maybe they're about the people who have shared our years with us, the memories we've made, and the friendships that have somehow carried us through all the years in between.
I thought about the song Auld Lang Syne. It's not really a birthday song—but I've always thought of it that way, because somehow it feels like you're saying goodbye to another year.
Robert Burns recorded it in 1788, and the phrase roughly translates to "for old times' sake." It's a song about remembering the people and experiences that have shared our lives—a song of belonging, fellowship, friendship, and nostalgia.
And then I discovered something I had never known about the song.
In the Scottish tradition, the song is sung as people stand in a circle, holding hands. During the final verse, they cross their arms and take hold of the hands of the people on either side. As the song moves toward its end, everyone steps toward the center, still holding hands, closing the circle—then steps back, opening it again.
I couldn't help but think about that circle today.
Because isn't that what friendship is? We come together. We hold on to one another. Sometimes life pulls us apart—we move in different directions, cross paths with new people, lose touch with others, and somehow find our way back again.
Some friendships have lasted decades. Some were only meant to accompany us for a season. Some have survived distance, time, misunderstandings, and the changing circumstances of life. And some people have been there so long that it is difficult to remember who we were before they became part of our story.
They are all part of the circle.
When I think about my 77 years, I realize that the number itself doesn't seem nearly as important as the people who fill those years.
There are faces I can still picture from childhood. Friends from school. People I met along the way. Family members who are no longer here but whose presence remains woven into my memories. Friends who have stayed through the years. And new friendships that have arrived when I least expected them.
Each one has left a mark. Each one has become part of the story.
So birthdays come and go. The candles multiply. The number changes. But what remains is the circle.
Today, I woke up a year older—and a year richer. Not richer in the things we usually measure: money, possessions, accomplishments, or even years. Richer in memories. Richer in friendships. Richer in love.
When I look at the messages filling my phone today, I see something much bigger than birthday greetings. I see a lifetime of connections—the mark that family and friends have left on my life, and the one I hope I have left on theirs.
At 77, my birthday isn't really about adding another year to my life. It is about remembering the times gone by, and being grateful for the people still holding my hand.
For old times' sake. For new times to come. For the beautiful, imperfect, ever-changing circle that carries us through it all—
Every year, the circle wishes us:
Happy Birthday!🌺
—
A birthday isn't a measurement of how many years you've lived. It's a reminder of how many lives have touched yours—and how many you've touched in return.🌺