It seems birthdays are a ubiquitous blogging subject. So not wanting a missed opportunity to sound trite, I offer my own nostalgic composition.
I am used to filling in my date of birth on medical forms. But when I recently had an eye exam to issue new contact lenses and glasses, the variation: Age____, took me off guard. I was still scrawling out longhand math when the receptionist called me into the tiny cube stocked between the office chairs and Hewlett Packard ink cartridges sufficing as an optometry office in my local Costco.
I am starting to feel old now and am no longer contradicted by commiserating friends or relatives offering platitudes. Instead they stop stuttering at “no you’re…” as if to recall the years themselves, “oh, yeah, you are!” I can feel the aging in my bones as aches and pains and the slightest touch of forgetfulness no longer excusable on post post partum hormones.
But the compensation is I have finally achieved some sort of legitimate status when I speak in circles of my elders. Hmmm is considered in place of eye rolling when I wax angrily on politics and matters of social importance. At 38, I have earned my place; inherited some respect neither spurious nor false.
And I have reached an age where I am accepting of the inevitable; I am where I would like to be at 38. My sister-in-law recently turned 27 and said she felt old as the odometer ticked past another double digit. And I remember that feeling myself 10 years ago. At 28, I started to panic; I had so much to do before I turned 30! (30 considered by those for whom three decades incites personal deadlines, is not considered old by those in the AARP set. Or anyone over 35.) I no longer prescribe deadlines to myself, but rather set goals because I hope to have a long life ahead of me. And I enjoy the vantage point here looking back on accomplishments with satisfaction and regret with forgiveness.
SPOILS:
Gift package with goodies from TN
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay
Hernandez bros graphic novel
A rubber band and paperclip construction wind chime
Gift card for Powell’s Books
Dinner and a movie
*Jack Weinberg c. 1965 (Four years before I was born.)
30 does seem insanely young doesn't it? God, I can't really even remember 25. I'd have to think pretty hard about what I was doing/where living and I try to save those precious brain cells for more important things like finding my car keys. I think I feel a lot better physically at 38 because I'm not hungover (well okay on rare occasions).
I still am sort of not forgiving you because of Mexico but I am trying to be a better person and let it go.. ;)
Happy belated birthday! Hope your win the lottery and we can all move somewhere cool like Mexico!!
Posted by: mamatried | December 16, 2007 at 11:03 AM
Happy Birthday. I have been going through that feeling that the big 3-0 is looming for the past three years. When I actually turn 30 next year, I'll be relieved!
Posted by: Kate Saltfleet | December 15, 2007 at 04:02 AM
Happy birthday!
I remember being oddly disturbed by turning 25. 30 and 35 were both ok. On to 40!
Posted by: karrie | December 15, 2007 at 02:58 AM