To Die For

The waitress placed the mushroom, egg, and pecorino risotto in front of me.  I inhaled the intoxicating woodsy aroma.  The man at the table next to us leaned over conspiratorially and offered, “I had the risotto too . . . it’s to die for . . . it’s absolutely to die for.

His choice of words floored me.  I had literally just gotten off the phone with my sister, who shared that our childhood friend had died at the tender age of 44.  My fellow diner’s casual expression has continued to resonate in my head as I celebrate my 48th birthday this week.

Another year lived.  Only some of us share this particular present.  And some of us look the gift horse directly in the mouth.  We live without zest, overcome by the stresses of modern living or caught by our negativity mind-traps.

For me, I’m reveling in the privilege of blowing out the candles on yet another cake (a lot of candles, mind you).  This gift is better than anything with a ribbon.  And so each day I strive to craft a life of meaning and gratitude . . . in fact, I’m working on creating a life that’s to die for.

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