I love birth. And I love rebirth. Birth is our first chance and rebirth is our second chance. I was born once. And every day I wake up to my rebirth. It’s that simple. And what a lovely thought really, because you can’t take it back—birth, I mean. You can’t just throw down your shovel in the sand and say: “That’s it! I’m not playing anymore. I’m going home!” and then just leave. For where would you go? Oh sure, you can die, and go wherever you go after the maggots taste you, but where would you go really? I’d rather not think about it! No, I’m here, birthed because my mother loved me enough to go through the pain of childbirth and then because I loved me enough to go through the pain of each new day. Not that it’s all pain. Each day is a rebirth, a chance to do it over again differently. It’s a chance to be grateful for all that I have, to dream about all that I can have and generally bask in the idea that each day is a celebration of my own birth.