Today is my birthday. It is interesting we mark and memorize the day we came into the world. While birthdays are often a a day structured around celebration, I have found them a day to reflect on all the ways your existence has made ripples. How your entrance and inevitable departure is filled with pieces of your life scattered and embedded in the hearts, minds and life stories of so many others. How intricately the strings connect and build to form my life story that began 38 years ago tomorrow.
I hardly put much credence into my birthday as being more special than any other day. Social media will alert my friends list, but other than my news feed I hadn’t planned much fanfare. Honestly, everyday I feel special in my home and family. Not all day, but everyday I feel more loved than not. Every day I take care of and am taken care of my family. I just never felt like I needed to have one whole specific day when I am already filled up all year with support and affection and love. Honestly, I have to think about my age when asked these days. It just is such a small detail in the day-to-day of my life that I sometimes forget. Age is a thing your suppose to count, but I often lose track.
This decade of being thirty something has been wonderful so far. I know myself better. I never knew I could rebuild an entire life. That I can do things that terrify me and discover that there are better things to be afraid of. That I like cake, but would rather have a meal than blow out candles. Food is one of my greatest joys in life. Of all the desserts, I much rather have a tart, ice cream or Italian cookies. Yet, the importance of having those things today just isn’t felt in my heart. That the things I love will still be there waiting as my kids grow and need me less: books, sleep, and earning my own wage. That showing up is more important than all the things that might keep you from showing up. That I don’t think I could handle the sharpness of life without the solace the words “shit” and “fuck” give me as I tackle lost shoes, scrubbing puke out of rugs, or the fact I am never on time for anything ever. That you should not say it if you don’t mean it. Sometimes truth is hard to say, but harder to listen to. I found some voices I like to learn from. I have found myself in some really lovely friendships. I think doing life with my people is my favorite thing about being alive and human.
I’m hoping in the next two years to settle into a career. I’d like to close out my thirties with a job that I can stick with and retire from. A book, an advanced degree, a certification, or something more menial and perfunctory– I am having a hard time deciding. I have had the hardest time deciding to work with kids, to write or to just find a paycheck. Each gives and takes something. This year of being thirty eight will have to include a decision of sorts there. I’m unsure and all the feelings that come with that.
I hope to slide into my forties amazed and exhausted at all the life I lived in my thirties. As of today, I only have two more years to enjoy being thirty-something. It is bittersweet to be in the midst of the end of a decade. Twenty four months left. Perhaps the only way I’m really keeping track of this age thing these days.
I made a few wishes without any candles this morning. I prayed my own way which is a thing that manifested itself in my thirties. I took the time to pop here without needing to just pour out some thoughts. And I have been mulling over all the things that have made me, well, me over the course of my life. So far, even though I’m sleep deprived due to the most adorable two year old, I feel like I’ve already celebrated myself. I feel ready for all that is this Tuesday. I feel like today will be an okay first day of the next year of my life.