Birthday Bliss
Some days feel ordinary. Some slip past quietly. And then there are days that arrive with a kind of reverence—as if destiny herself puts on her finest dress, knocks gently on the door of your smile, and says with a wink, “I’ve got something for you.”
June 2nd, 2025 was one of those days. A mosaic of moments so perfectly orchestrated, I’m still floating in its afterglow. Oh yes, I am sweetly suspended between disbelief and deep gratitude.
I’ve had all kinds of birthdays. Some stitched with laughter, some heavy with longing, and a few I would gladly erase if time allowed me to stay alive, minus a few birthdays. But one thing had always been true: there was effort involved—my effort. When you’re a single mom, the breadwinner, and the executive of everything, you don’t expect anyone else to light the candles. You get used to buying your own cake, hanging your own birthday banner, and clapping for yourself.
I didn’t think birthdays could be anything more than solo missions with brief captures of joy.
Then I met my partner, Matt.
A few weeks before June, he said, “Baby, do you want to plan your birthday together, or do you want me to handle it all?” I smiled—hopeful and elated. “You do it all,” I replied. What followed felt like a dream sequence: a series of multiple-choice questions about my preferences. “Indoor or outdoor? Fancy or chill?” It was like filling out a happiness quiz with someone who actually wanted to get every answer right. I shared my responses with the kind of awe Maria belted in The Sound of Music: “What will this day be like, I wonder... what will the future bring?”
Fast forward to June 1st. He picked me up from the airport and swept me straight into celebration. We went to a festival, then out for ribs and cocktails (after a brief laugh about me forgetting my ID). We found the perfect birthday outfit, picked up my beloved caramel cheesecake, and soaked in every little fun moment. But then came the mystery: “We have to be back by 4,” he said, smiling but giving nothing away.
When we returned, the front door opened to uncut thoughtfulness: balloons, decorations, and a sweet card—his children had decorated just for me. I felt my heart melt. They had done it all while we were out. I wiped away tears, feeling floored by their tenderness.
Then he said, “We’ve got to go, mi vida.” That’s what he’s called me since the beginning of our relationship—my life. The first time I saw it in a message, I paused and whispered, “This… this is what life was waiting for.” I had waited so long I forgot it was possible—to be loved like this.
He drove. I asked, “Am I dressed right?” He answered, “You look perfect.” Then, like a scene from a movie, we pulled up to what I can only describe as a real-life castle. “I thought you should wake up in a castle on your 35th birthday,” he said.
Dear reader, I squealed. I’m surprised I didn’t shatter windows.
The room was Victorian heaven. But we’re not ones to sit still. We freshened up and ventured out for dinner, returning for long conversations, laughter, and a midnight castle stroll.
Of course, we found a hammock under the stars and swung there until late, recounting the day we met.
The next morning began with breakfast in the castle, mountains wrapping around us like a gift. It was 7:30 AM. My birthday had only begun. We walked along a brook, though our plans to walk in the water were quickly abandoned due to the glacier-like water temperature.
Back home, he said, “You ready for your next surprise?” and off we went—this time to the zoo.
My birthday was thoughtfully planned, tickets secured, and every detail handled.
The elephants roamed with grace. The lion paced like poetry. Giraffes towered like miracles.
And in the quiet aviary, I fed birds with outstretched hands—letting their wings remind me what freedom feels like.
That evening, after calls from my daughters in the Dominican Republic (because a birthday without their voices isn’t a birthday at all), we returned for one final act of love. He smoked wings. Made his signature buffalo sauce, and called the kids upstairs. They sang. Thirty-five candles glowed. And just when I thought the day had peaked, he handed me a card.
“You are the one I have been looking for my whole life,” it read.
Cue the tears.
Cue the ache of gratitude in my bones.
Cue the understanding that sometimes, life will delay. It waits until the timing is just right. Until your heart is ready. Until you believe, truly believe, that you are worthy of bliss.
And dear reader, I now believe.
But here’s what I didn’t expect:
Belief keeps echoing.
It doesn’t always show up loud or dramatic. More often, it lingers quietly—between sips of coffee, in the silence before the day begins, or in those in-between moments when nothing seems particularly magical. And yet, there it is. A whisper in my soul saying, “More of this is coming.”
Because believing isn’t passive—it’s an act of creation. A decision to keep showing up, even when the path ahead looks uncertain.
This birthday felt like more than a celebration. It felt like a shift. A transformation. A turning of the page. It reminded me that joy doesn’t just stumble into our lives unannounced. Sometimes, joy patiently holds up a mirror until we’re finally willing to recognize the beauty, strength, and light that’s been within us all along.
We are the masters of our fate and the captains of our destiny—but here’s the truth no one tells you: the people in your boat matter.
Who you allow to weather the storms with you, to steady your hands on the wheel, to sit with you in stillness when the sea is calm—they matter. Choose wisely. Protect your peace. Trust your gut.
And when in doubt, consult your five-year-old self. They know best sometimes. Don’t forget to consult you in 20 years as well. Both versions of you won’t steer you wrong.
Until next time,
Maria 🌹
