30’s

            My husband turned 33 on Friday. We celebrated by going for pizza and having my parents and brother and sister-in-law over to our house for an ice cream party. I bought crazy yellow paper napkins that said “Happy Birthday” on them. We made our own sundaes with hot fudge and caramel and whipped cream and cherries, and made a mess of the kitchen. We sat around the living room and ate while he ripped open his gifts and the wrapping paper piled on the floor. We presented him with funny cards. We listened to Tears for Fears on the record player. It doesn’t really feel like we’re getting any older.

            I turned 30 last July, and before approaching the monumental date, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about it. I didn’t really know what to think. Everyone tiptoes around the big 30^th birthday, like it’s this evil thing that comes for each and every one of us, whether we like it or not, to rob us of our youth. I hear so many people say things like, “By the time I’m 30, I want to…” or “When I’m 30 I want to be established…” or “30’s too old for…” I just sort of jumped into the fire and hoped for the best. What else can you do? You can’t stop it. It’s going to come for you. So it came. And this is what I’ve found to be true:

            I feel really good. I’m a lot more sure of my purpose as a human being on this earth than I was five years ago. I was stumbling around in my 20’s, and I did a lot of embarrassing things. I said a lot of stupid stuff to the boys I liked, and I wore a lot of wild outfits, I let my friend pierce my nose with a gun meant for piercing ears, and I got a tramp-stamp. I am permanently marked by my 20’s. I went to graduate school because I wanted to become a writer and I accumulated a lot of debt. I was trying to figure out who I wanted to read, and how I wanted to write.

It’s a lot of work figuring out how you’d like to present yourself to the world and what you’d like to invest in, so you’ve got to try some things out and do a little investigating around. I think I’ve finally come to a place in my life where I’m happy with the person I am and proud of the things I’ve done, and I know a thing or two about what I’d like to do next. Also, I don’t think there’s an appropriate time, an appropriate age, for getting married or for having a baby, or the next baby, or for going to graduate school. I like to rest in this knowledge. The bottom line is, I don’t want to be 21 again, and as time continues its perpetual march, I’m going to take it as it comes, one day at a time, exactly where I am.