This past Monday was my birthday. As has become my tradition, I started celebrating about a week earlier.

At my sister’s annual Thanksgiving leftover party last Saturday, she made an oh so special dark chocolate cake. Its framboise coated, ultra rich icing was worthy of a space in any gold-string boxed collection from a fine chocolatier. My nieces and I decided singing Happy Birthday was passé, so we led the group in singing an alternate birthday song, one which I hope will become a new tradition. Everyone knew the words. “Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz?”

Last Sunday, I made a pot of chili and had some of my best gal pals over to watch football. Even the Bears cooperated with my plans for a special day by beating the Eagles convincingly. Linda and Jackie and Nancy all brought cake. Silly cards about aging and straight cards with special wishes went up around my dining room. I got to lead another group in a rousing chorus of “Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz?”

Monday night, after he finished work, my new beau came over for leftover leftovers. Obviously, I had more than enough cake. I got to satisfy whatever nurturing gene I have that needed to be tickled (feeding someone always feels good) and, consciously trying to demonstrate his appreciation, he planted himself in front of my kitchen sink and did a bang-up job with the dishes.

On his arrival, he was quick to present me with a card and a small bundle wrapped in wide-bubble bubble wrap. The handover was accompanied by a set of apologies. I am not sure why.

“It’s just a plain card,” he said. “Be careful unwrapping this. They’re glass. I’m sorry, but the tiger has already lost a paw.”

After a recent conversation about things we’ve collected, he learned that I had an assortment of swizzle sticks, some fit for a tiki bar, others destination souvenirs. The fine vintage cocktail safari set of four animals he presented me with was so beyond my six brown Zulu Lulu swizzlers and the pink plastic barracuda I picked up at the Bubble Room in Sanibel Island twenty years ago. They are beautiful, fragile, and unique.

Sunday, my newest girlfriend brought me a flowering cactus plant, a zygo, a Christmas cactus. It is supposed to need only the most basics for care, partial sun and periodic soakings, and it should last for years. Valerie’s special gift was the perfect reminder of how important my girlfriends are in my life. Our mutual affection is so solid, our relationships do not need daily fussing. We may even go stretches of time without much contact, and then we will get together to help each other celebrate or grieve, and our bonds bloom again. Her gift also reminded me that there’s always more love. Friendships seem to grow exponentially. As I watched my friends chat at my football party, I saw the possibility that other new relationships were being launched before my eyes.

And, I can’t believe how perfect my glass swizzle sticks are. Romantic relationships always make me feel vulnerable, and sometimes I forget vulnerable is a perfectly good feeling. I want to live in the present with this new relationship. I don’t want to project disappointment based on ancient personal history or try to re-make myself into someone I imagine might be more pleasing. I choose to remember that taking the risk is always worth it.

Now, I have a formidable herd to encourage me to welcome new relationships, a herd made of glass: a lion, for me representing the inherent integrity, life experience and pride two adults bring to a relationship; a hyena, deceptively fierce and protective of its territory; a giraffe, serene, self-sufficient and adaptable; and the beautiful tiger, quick, yet measured in its movements, ultimately operating on instincts. My tiger is missing one paw and is all the more beautiful to me because of this. Aren’t we all, at least a little bit, our wounds? It seems that so much of our characters are shaped by our hurts and how we grow from them, and the greatest opportunity in a new relationship is in the way our losses bring out the real tenderness in another.

Opening your heart to new relationships, with courage and enthusiasm, is no small thing.