This week I raced towards my 30th birthday like some 4th graders falling all over themselves to get at the bday popsicles. There were celebrations, brouhahas, phone calls and texts, quiet dinners and fancy dresses, and bowers of flowers. I made my latest trip around the sun in style.....and even so.....and even so.
One of my dark and moody boy-students shocked all hell out of me by bringing a helium balloon and a dozen crimson roses to school on Monday. The flowers were lovely, and much befitting a 30 year old grown woman, but it was the balloon that yanked at my heartstrings. Something Greg used to do, and I wondered if anyone at all would remember to do it this year, for such a big round birthday. The universe takes care of me in roundabout ways, sometimes.
Although I've always loved my birthday & never been the type to get melancholic or age-phobic, a lot of shit went down in my 20s and it was dramatic to say goodbye. It would have been easy to be blue.....however, it seems as though when you've lost someone too young, and too close, and it hurt too much- you're not allowed to lament any more trips around the sun. After all- what's the alternative? If I'm going to be self-indulgent, I'd rather it be an excess of celebration than an excess of self-pity.
I was awfully glad to get that balloon, though. Welcome, thirties! Many reasons for gratitude.....
