I turned 44 today—two score and four. It marks only the second time in my life that my birthday falls on Easter Sunday, which is a fabulous illustration of the vagaries of the lunar calendar. (The first time my birthday fell on Easter Sunday was in 2005.) The kids woke me up this morning with happy birthday and happy Easter greetings.

Forty-four is not a milestone like 40 or 50, but it holds a special significance for me nonetheless. Three months after graduating from college, I started a job at a company that I still work at today. I was 22 years old on my first day at work at the company. A little later this year, at 44, I will be have been at that same company for 22 years—half of my life. There is something both amazing, and frightening at the thought that there may be a 22 year-old who started with the company, who was yet born when I started there, back in 1994.

My plans for my 44th birthday are modest. This morning, I am reading the Sunday papers. A little later this morning, we are heading to a friends’ house for Easter brunch. There is an ice cream cake (my favorite!) in the freeze for tonight. Mostly, I am looking forward to spending the day with the family, and maybe making some progress on my reading of Carl Sandburg’s biography of Abraham Lincoln, which I expect to finish sometime this week.