I walked away from the setting sun with the wind at my back, the sky a moody sea lined with ruby, the air cold and pine-scented, and I sank back into the peaceful stillness of winter twilight as a Northwesterner still speechless by the way the mountain captures the light long after it has disappeared. It is Birthday-eve and I’m having large feelings, which only seem to get larger each year until they threaten to swallow me whole.