  When I was growing up, I always felt like the 22nd of June was the saddest day of the year. My birthday had passed, and more importantly, the anticipation leading up to my birthday had passed. Never in the whole year would I be further from my birthday than on the day after it. I have memories of counting down the minutes with friends as we neared the end of my wonderful day. As I've gotten older, the anticipation leading up to my birthday has lessened a little, but not altogether. I still love the solstice, and the peaceful feeling of the world on the longest day of the year.
This year was a little bit of a downer because the family was so shell-shocked from Aidan's sick week, and hunkering in the bunker still in preparation for Ellie's go with it. It was hard to enjoy staying home with the knowledge that we were almost experiencing the solstice at Chaco Canyon, with the carefully architectured light rays shining through the dwelling as they do only on the summer and winter solstices. The benefit of less anticipation seems to be less letdown when the excitement passes, because I didn't wake up today with a feeling of dread when I realized it was the day after my birthday. I can't say I feel older, either. Mostly I'm just ready to be in New Mexico! 
