By the time I’ve posted this article, I’ll have just turned twenty years old. Along with the “Happy Birthday” Facebook posts and reminiscing with family and friends, comes the realization that I’ve most likely passed the first quarter of my life. Apparently, the average lifespan in the United States for 2016 is 79 years of age. Yes, I know 20 isn’t a quarter of 79 (I’m pretty bad at math, but not that bad) so let’s just round it up to 80 for the sake of convenience. Anyway, while I could write about how it’s absolutely pathetic that the United States is ranked 53^rd in life expectancy, that’s a discussion for another day. So while the cake, candles, cone hats, and balloons are all well and good, what’s really the point of birthdays anyway?

The most widely accepted answer is that birthdays are, obviously, about celebrating your day of birth. For me, that day is February 1^st, 1996. Of course, I don’t remember anything that day, but some of it’s documented on family videotapes. It still makes sense to celebrate it though, right? I mean, your birthday is quite literally the day you came into this world (I was going to say the day you came into existence, but let’s not get into that argument). It only seems fair that the day gets some recognition.

However, the day of your birth isn’t the only thing that’s celebrated with birthdays (sounds idiotic, I know, but stick with me). Certain birthdays seem to carry more weight than others. Our 10^th birthdays are usually considered special, for example. Maybe it’s just because we’ve hit double digits, and two numbers are better than one. Our “Sweet 16” is another one, as it’s seen as one of the final stepping-stones to adulthood. Our 18^th birthdays actually mark that transition into adulthood, but let’s be honest, most of us at 18 were adults in legal standing only. And of course 21^st birthdays open the door to legal drinking, and there are plenty more important ones after that.

But is that what birthdays are? Some kind of numerical checkpoints to keep track of how many times we’ve had the sun rotate around the Earth while we’re on it? Or are birthdays another desperate attempt to exercise control over something that is beyond our control, such as time? Every year that passes us by is one step closer to possibly the only guarantee in life: death. Yes, that’s incredibly morbid and definitely a mood-killer, but come on. I’m not saying we should spend each and every waking moment terrified by death’s inevitable embrace...absolutely not, that would be miserable. But, it’s always good to be in touch with your own mortality. No one lives forever, and as your hair turns gray and you look back on your life, you might regret not accepting that sooner. It’s also easy to get nihilistic if you consider that you are one of billions on a single planet in a single solar system of an ever-expanding universe. Or, if you consider that every day, thousands die and are born while the world keeps on spinning. However, neither of these conclusions mean that your life is pointless. And perhaps that is what birthdays are really about, helping to find meaning in life, even if it is just through counting.