You are a kid again.  The day is about cake and polka dots and fun.

Each part of your routine sparkles with the pure enjoyment of the day: the promise of celebrations, the excitement of opening a present carefully chosen for you by someone you love.  Even the sun seems to hold you close. 

It is a day begging to be dressed up in a fancy frock and ribbons in your hair; a day that calls for a lighter work load if not downright hooky.  It is a day lived in the present even as it acts like a camera reel sliding over scenes from the past year--accomplishments, heartaches, adventures, and curve balls.  But the reel stretches beyond the year, reminding you that today of all days is where you can feel not just your age but also 25 or 12 or 7.  These years, these ages, these other yous all weaving together to make the you that is you right now.

The you that is seven still thinks of this day as the one where you get to eat a big piece of vanilla cake smothered in brightly colored frosting.  The you that is now--the one that has almost grown out of the frosted cake eating--looks to the day as one in need of champagne or bubble baths or both.  Both yous--the seven and the now--will forever agree that it is a day for a fancy dress, a cheeky A-line skirt that shouts girly fun and frivolity.

And all of the yous know that the cake, the dress, the champagne, the pure giddy enjoyment of being one year older, pale in comparison to spending a day with those you love, celebrating the you that is now with people who have known all the yous, sometimes better than you have.  They are the hugs and love and proverbial warm fuzzy blanket that make the day worthwhile.