...so actually, my birthday has come and gone, and naturally I had better things to do than blog, such as gardening, big breakfast, hanging out with buds, karaoke, beach combing, or knitting my new obsession- a leftover yarn scarf (and actually, I just couldn't get it together), but I suppose this is just as good a time as any to muse a little on age.
I'm definitely not one of those folks who require a big party to celebrate each year they've lived. I'd so much rather just reflect on its passing and all the awesome experiences and lessons learned and then, you know, go read a book, or knit. One year C. and I actually kind of forgot that it was my birthday. It was the best birthday I've ever had.
It seems so long ago now, that I was once 29, at my mother's little cabin with my future husband, blissfully unaware that it was my birthday. At the same time it seems like it happened no more than a year ago that we married and changed our lives forever.
It's amazing to me that I'm as old as I am, that I'm well into my thirties. I don't know what I expected, if anything, but I certainly didn't expect to still be struggling with some of the things I am, or having so easily let go of old hang-ups.
I guess what no one tells you is that you feel pretty much the same with each passing year, only more so, more like yourself. In my twenties I spent a lot of time worrying about my future, about who I might become, how I looked, whether I would ever meet my own dreams, expectations, or life partner.
My 30s? Not so much. These days I mostly
As you get older, the number of realistic options you have for an alternate future seem to get somewhat narrower, something that can be a harrowing thought. There are certainly things that I will definitely not be experiencing ever, or ever again at thirty-four. There are others that are unlikely to happen still. But I find this more like a focusing on what I am experiencing rather than limitation of my options in life.
When I was younger, I remember resonating very strongly with this passage from The Bell Jar:
"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet. ~Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar, Chapter 7"
Now, I feel like I have my wonderful future, as malleable as it may still be. I don't know when or where exactly it happened, but somehow I made some of those choices, not always for something, but sometimes against something, gave up something, only to arrive, quite unexpectedly, here in the future. It's pretty bright. Even if the weather is a little gloomy sometimes.
Birthdays, parties, twenties, thirties, forties? Yay, nay, yippee?