Nearly one year ago,
on my golden birthday, I woke up to the Pacific Ocean. I was taken aback by how familiar that body of water has become. My 19-year-old self would've been astounded to know I'd been in Los Angeles for nearly three years at that point. An hour or so later, we drove to the border. I was unreasonably hungry (because we never do grow out of some ways of being) and nervous–what with my last name and the current President. The passport exchange was somehow more painless than
previous drives from Canada; we found roadside churros also. Back in California, I turned my cell on to a cascade of happy 29th wishes via texts and voicemails. After a refreshing three day weekend in Mexico, I truly was. Happy, that is.
Happiness hasn't been something that's come easily in my twenties. I'm too learnedly cautious, or, as some may say, cynical. Whereas I desire an incredible amount from the world, I expect very little. I think that's why I've ended up inhabiting four cities in the past ten years. Submitting to one place requires a a reckoning with
mundanity I've been far too intimidated to take on. And there's pressure in the
choosing. And that's before considering the people that will matter there,
the vulnerable investment true bonds require...
Clearly I'm still fearful. But I've also been ruminating over something my mom once said, about how 34 was her favorite because it was the age she fully embraced
who she was and felt wholly satisfied with life she was
creating. Even then I found the concept so beautiful. Now, I dually appreciate the courage that made it true. Living that sentiment might be what I'm most looking forward to. (For the record, I also intend to refute the claim that time's running out to
visit these destinations. Are you kidding me.)
When he'd asked what I wanted to do for my birthday, I thought back to
my 28th. I fondly remembered that
Mexico has a wine country. We stayed by the water and
dined in courses amongst the vines and made time for
horseback riding, and ocean-front reading, and margaritas after a farm animal meet n' greet. We tasted a delectable array of smoky, sophisticated wines. It was such a privilege to satisfy so luxuriously; magical even. Here's to accepting more of that into
this wild and precious life. Next month: 30, (Paris, Greece!).
my best friend has been waiting to turn 40 since she was 18; the theory is that at 40, women in particular are more confident and at peace with themselves - they also know what they want and have the resources to get there!
ReplyDeleteThat makes so much sense to me! Though, I do have to remind myself to appreciate the learning that leads to such confidence and peace. Thank you for sharing!
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