Dear journal,
Today I turn 43. The number itself doesn’t strike me as old or young. It feels lived-in, like a well-worn coat that fits a little more comfortably each year. I mark the day not with celebration, but with reflection. A moment to take stock of the life I’ve built, the people who fill it, and the unexpected gifts that have arrived along the way. If there is a theme for this birthday, it is gratitude; for a life imperfect but meaningful, unfinished but fully mine.
“Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all the others.”
—Cicero
A Home Full of Life
I am grateful for my home. Not just for its shelter, but for the spirit within it. The ruling council—Cricket, Hopper, Louie, Betty, the wailing baby downstairs—govern not with decrees but with presence. Their rituals—purring on my chest, curling at my feet, wailing for attention—form the rhythms of my day. There is something sacred in these small lives. They offer companionship without demand, affection without pretense.
To wake up with a cat beside me, to feel the warmth of fur against my leg, is to remember that I am not alone. Theirs is a love rooted in presence. It asks nothing but trust.
“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened.”
—Anatole France
The Enduring Love of Family
At 43, I still have both of my parents. That alone is cause for gratitude. But what matters even more is that we like each other. We speak openly. We laugh together. We share a language of affection that time and effort have made possible. We have grown as individuals and, in doing so, have grown closer as a family.
Their love now feels less like authority and more like partnership. I see them more fully as people. And they, I think, see me the same.
“Rejoice with your family in the beautiful land of life.”
—Albert Einstein
A Brother, Forgiveness, and Friendship
My brother and I have known each other our whole lives, but only in recent years have we become true friends. That shift—subtle but profound—has changed everything. I am grateful for his forgiveness, for the way he has let me grow without chaining me to past versions of myself.
We travel together. We go to the movies. We sit in silence and talk about everything and nothing. We are no longer just brothers—we are companions through this stage of life. And that companionship has become one of the most stable and joyful relationships I have.
“It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
Work That Gives Back
I am grateful for my job—not just for the paycheck, but for the purpose. Teaching isn’t just a profession for me. It is a form of healing, both for my students and for myself. I see in them echoes of my younger self—confused, questioning, hopeful—and in showing up for them, I often find the guidance I once needed.
My classroom is a space where stories unfold. Where growth happens. Where laughter and pain sit side by side. I am allowed to be fully human in my work, and I am trusted to help others do the same. That is no small thing.
“The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.”
—Mahatma Gandhi
Friends Who Became Pillars
Some of the most important people in my life began as digital presences; names on a screen, typed-out laughter, late-night games. I never expected those connections to move beyond the virtual. But they did. And now, they are among the most real relationships I have.
These friends walk with me through life’s everyday moments. They celebrate my wins, mourn my losses, and hold space for the mundane in between. They remind me to drink life's water. To be gentle with myself. To rest. In them, I’ve found something that feels ancient and true—an echo of the kind of friendships the Stoics called soul-deep.
“A faithful friend is the medicine of life.”
—Ecclesiasticus 6:16“What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies.”
—Aristotle
A Life Still Becoming
At 43, I am no longer young. But I am not yet old. I dwell in the space between—this strange, rich, unpredictable middle. And in that space, I am learning that life is not about arrival but about unfolding. About presence. About grace. I have made mistakes. I’ve held regrets. But today, I am grateful not just for what I have, but for who I am becoming.
This birthday isn’t about the number. It’s about the heart. And mine is full.
“We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.”
—Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
Always,
Dave