Three Cakes in Four Days

Five years ago my 60th birthday felt like a consolation prize. This year I had to ask people to stop.

By the end of the weekend I said it out loud, laughing: “OK, stop. I can’t stand being loved this much.”

There was another cake in front of me, candles lit, people singing, a stack of handmade cards on the table. The third cake in four days, and I’d run out of ways to act surprised.

I turned 65 this month. A week out, I figured it would be a non-event.

You…