Hello 28, I’ve been waiting for you. Normally, I’d plan some big celebration, but I’m over all that; the fact that you’ve arrived is causing much gratitude.
Last year it was so important for me to welcome 27. I hadn’t celebrated a birthday in four years, and I felt like it was time for my own party.
23, I threw a birthday party for myself and no one showed up; 24, I had lived in San Francisco for five days; 25, a friend got married, and 26 the same, so 27 was going to be my year.
This self-celebration went a bit too far and I ended up having to apologize to my friends for jumping into a swimming pool in my underwear and attempting to inappropriately chicken-fight. While laughable, I felt a lot of shame about it, “that was something I should’ve done at 24,” I thought.
Now, looking back, the fact that I even thought a certain number, a certain year was going to mine seems ridiculous to me; like a narcissistic, immature fantasy of being “fabulous” with no meaning. It seems like the sort of thing a person who swims in their underwear would say.
I don’t know what shifted over this past year, but I am sure that a lot did. It’s hard to find the words for it; life just slowly got very quiet.
I reduced my volunteering responsibilities, worked a lot, and saw a handful of friends leave my life; their parting words weren’t kind. I began to spend a lot of weekends at home by myself, writing, going to Yoga and cooking.
With all the reductions: the less friends, the less responsibilities, it gave me time and space to just sit with myself, and while outwardly lazy, even depressive sloth-like, I began to reflect where I was, how I was being, and if I had been being true to the values that sat inside.
Then I met a boy (or man, right? I am now 28), and we fell in love.
It surprised me. He lived in a different country, and while I’ve proclaimed I didn’t have a vision in my mind of what I wanted, I learned that I did. He challenged that, but more importantly, he really saw me; like in that cheesy Avatar kind of way; like where they look at each other and say, “I see you,” and for those who haven’t seen the movie I hope you get what I mean.
Between the quiet and love, I began to peel off another layer of self, scratch away at the lacquer that can pile on.
I know that I still have a journey ahead of me; I know that things might not work out with the boy, there are no guarantees, but I am certain that I am entering a new year reconnected to what I really value.
This past weekend I celebrated a friend’s marriage, cleaned my apartment, read two books, worked and wrote; I want to bring all of that into 28; a year of celebrating others, doing what I love and keeping it clean.
Then next year, I’ll be somewhere writing about how hard it is to say goodbye; how certain years are special, stand out amongst the others, and I hope that 28 will be one of them.
Just enjoy every day! They ly by fast. I’ve alwaysnplayed the by “Five For Fighting”to you. You said you hated ut. Now you might really understand!