On Being Older

When I was younger I was very good at journal keeping.

Then it got to the point where I was really only journaling "big" things like "Oh HI, journal...So long story short there's this boy and he HELD MY HAND TONIGHT!!" Bubbles bubbles bubbles.

Then it got to the point where I was really only journaling once a year - the night before my birthday.

I don't think my journal knows I got married. Or started college for that matter.

But today is my birthday. And, though I didn't write yesterday - I still think I remember how yesterday (my last day of being "the big two-zero") felt.

My twentieth year was certainly a doozie.  Not what I would have expected for myself for my twentieth year.  In fact, at the cusp of my twenty-first birthday (last night) I found myself having a come-apart all about "who am i? what am i doing? where am i? where am i going?" because none of it seems to line up.

Turns out some of those feelings may have been valid, but mostly I was/am just tired.

But despite my crazy mind and non-traditional (or overly-traditional, depending on the way you look at it) life choices, I think I'm doing okay. And that's mostly what one should want to feel, I think, on their birthday. That they're doing okay. I may have made a few interesting turns, and I'm certainly taking some different side roads - but they're prettier than inter-state highways, anyway.

I can be patient.

My sweet sister - who wrote a neat and disgustingly accurate blog regarding my birthday that you should all read because its hiLARIOUS - gave me a gem of a gift. I didn't feel like getting my shmancy pants camera out so i took mirror-image pictures with my macbook. Sorry they're backwards.

 

It says, "What to focus on: Happy." Could there be anything more perfect?

I submit there could not.

Thank you, Emmy.

And welcome, Twenty-One.

 

Emmy also left secret BALLOONS outside my door for when i got home :) 

I LOVE BALLOONS!!!

And the prettiest, happiest necklace from my mom.

And pure, sweet, thoughtful, present-giving, favorite-present love from my husband.