I probably didn’t think about this as a child — anytime is a good time to celebrate your birthday, right — but as an adult, I really love when my birthday occurs.

My birthday falls during the last week of November. Thanksgiving puts me in a good frame of mind for reflecting on my life (a habit which I try to honor all year), and I never feel I’m competing with Christmas or Hanukkah for special attention.

Each year, I get treated to a wonderful Thanksgiving meal at my sister’s, which includes an incredible birthday cake. (Pumpkin pie just doesn’t cut it when there is chocolate pistachio cake to consume.)

The number of place settings has decreased in recent years, but we all consider our good fortune that we can enjoy our time together. I think we’re all more comfortable with who we are than we were decades ago. Or, maybe it’s just me.

Hanging out with friends later in the holiday weekend is another tradition I’ve enjoyed.

COVID has affected my end-of-November birthday festival. In 2020, a small group extended birthday wishes via Zoom.  Last year, a few of us met at a friend’s house, and I brought my favorite store bought sweet, a Pepperidge Farm coconut cake, and we laughed late into the night.

This year, now that my closest circle is vaxxed and boosted and small businesses, including family-owned restaurants, have their “Yes, we’re open” shingle on display again, I invited eight friends to brunch the Sunday after Turkey Day.

I liked the idea of meeting during the day, when prices for eating out were not a stretch and driving was easy.

When the ladies started trickling in, we were ushered to two tables that were pushed together.  I originally made a reservation for eight, but two had to cancel, making seating arrangements awkward.

One of my guests suggested we simply move to a round table that was already set up for six.

Ah, perfect, I thought. The Babes of the Round Table.  If Arthurian Knights chose to gather at a round table to indicate all of them were equally important, It seemed to be the optimal configuration for our gathering, too.

In this instance, equality was not about the number of soldiers we commanded. It was about being equally able to listen and be heard.

Wendy talked about her upcoming move and recent choice of hair color. She explained that “Copper,” as opposed to simply “red” was IN.  There was something so endearing about her openness to try something new.

Another friend spoke of the challenges and satisfaction she welcomed into her life by moving in with her parents to take care of them.

I couldn’t stop laughing when Nicki recounted a recent flirtation she engaged in with a man while waiting in line at a restaurant and deli to pick up matzah ball soup. Susan, who heard the story the previous day, felt compelled to add details, not wanting any juicy bits to be left out.

We were all in close and equal proximity to dishes we shared, which anchored the center off the table. We all had each other’s ears and hearts.

Gift bags were opened and funny cards were passed around. Second pots of chrysanthemum tea were poured. I was having a wonderful afternoon.

Around two and a half hours after we took our places at the round table came the part of the restaurant meal I often dread; the reconciliation of the bill.

I didn’t want my friends to feel compelled to pay for my brunch, as I had called for the gathering, and so often, I’ve experienced different philosophies of dining out at odds with each other.

Should we divide the bill by the number of people or should each person take responsibility for their own? Also, some people pay for everything by credit or debit card, making things complicated.

But everyone, miraculously, had cash and happily offered to pick up my lunch tab by adding five dollars to what they owed.

Enjoying lunch at a round table with ladies who are happy to split the bill (and bring an assortment of currency) is no small thing.