So, I turned thirty-eight last Tuesday. Birthdays always mark a natural New Year kind of thing in me, as it should in everyone. I love my birthday. I love celebrating it. In the days leading up to it, and afterward, I feel very… reflective. I think of where I’m going, and where I’ve been. Taking stock is an interesting thing.
I’m going to try this in a point-form list today, because a) I love lists, and b) frankly, I’ve got so much in my head these days, I have no other way to get it out easily.
1. The night before my birthday, I stay up to watch the clock roll onto the new date, in an attempt to feel my birthday for a moment. I like this habit. It’s quiet in the house, and I smile to myself. However, shortly before midnight on the 23rd, I was wasting spending some time on Facebook until midnight, and had discovered from status updates and wall posts that an old friend of mine, from way back in the day, had passed away the day before. Of lung cancer. He was 39 years old. My head started spinning… after I’d composed myself a little, I looked at the clock, and it said “12:06 AM.” Happy Birthday to me.
2. I woke up the next day with a feeling that I had something awful to remember. And then I did remember Haydain. And I thought of Anissa too, as I have many, many times a day over that past week, thinking of her struggling to breathe on her own… struggling to wake up… worried for her husband and children. I thought of my long-ago friend who had just passed, and I felt sick for his widow, just a girl when I knew her then, as we both were… thinking how incredibly sad and scared she must feel right now. And I marvelled at how I still manage to get up with two feet and a heartbeat, just like yesterday, and hopefully like tomorrow. Life feels so fucking random to me sometimes, I can scarcely get a grip.
3. My children serenaded me with “Happy Birthday” all day long, in English and in French. Baby girl is getting so much better with her words and singing, I can’t get over it. Oliver hugged me with all his might, with all his little boy ferocity, and told me how happy he was that I was born. I wanted to cry. It was the best, best thing ever.
4. Throughout the day, I received a multitude of phone, email, and Facebook messages from a crazy-ridiculous amount of people, I was actually shocked each time I sat down in front of the computer during the day. It was an overwhelming amount of love and well-wishes that were sent my way. Like, NUTS!! Which made me wonder about words like “deserved” and “random” as I often do. And, I felt so very special.
5. A few days prior to my birthday, over thirty of my awesome peeps came out to celebrate me at my friend Aaron’s restaurant in our ‘hood, The Claremont Cafe. We had a riotous time imbibing, and nibbling lovely eats… and behind my back, my peeps had paid the entire bill. I was completely shocked by this generosity, since I had pre-planned the menu and such with Aaron, and the bill was to be mine. My, oh my… the friends I have.
6. After the resto-party, we went back to my neighbour’s place for more drinks and a hottub. The air was quite cool, but unseasonably balmy for November. It was the perfect cap on a perfect evening. I slept like a brick when I got to bed at 4:30 AM. Darling husband let me sleep late.
7. My sister came to stay for the weekend, which is always awesome because she’s so smart and cool and funny, and she’s known me the best and the longest (and differently than my parents) and due to sibling-telepathy and a life long-lived together, we wasted no time in catching up properly, and solving our relevant problems, munching on ribs, and chicken pot pie, and rice krispie treats, and giggling our motherfucking asses off. I love my sister.
8. And, my lovely sister and I went on a power-shop Monday morning (she’s the only person I really like to clothes shop with, because she knows me, she knows my life, she knows my body, and she’s as daring as I am when it comes to clothes, so I trust her) and we spent about an hour and a half cleaning out two stores of some of the raddest, sexiest, awesomest clothes we could find, given the time. And all the booty was practically free. (Okay, not free, but supah-inexpensive, and now, not only will I NOT be madly screaming “fuck you!!” at my closet this holiday, but my wardrobe is actually sane and fluid again, so I look like the wicked-hawt rockstar I’m aiming supposed to be.)
9. Martin’s boss send me a stunning, towering bouquet of white amaryllis with all these wild sticks and lush green leaves. It’s the kind of thing one would see in a modern hotel lobby. She also sent home wine and champagne, and some stuffed animals for the children. Such a generous and splendid woman, she is. My goodness! Wow.
10. On my birthday night, Martin and I grilled some steaks and had some delicious wine. And we chatted and we cuddled, and he told me he was sorry about the bad news about my friends, but that he wanted me to enjoy my birthday the best I could anyway. He said he was glad I picked him. He said he was happy that he gets to love me forever.
My heart goes squish-squish. My eyes blur with tears at any one of these memories. Life is good. And? Life goes on. It goes on because it has to.
So.
I never worry about the age I am. Getting older is a good thing, I think. So far, I am well. I feel quite good. I feel like I look good too, all things considered. Bodies change and faces change with time… but that doesn’t bother me. I have no desire to be twenty-five again. Forty is coming, but I don’t feel it looming over me, waiting to suck me into Oldness. Probably because my own mother was never upset by aging. Perhaps because she’s aging so well. Or, perhaps that’s the very reason she’s aging so well – she’s not trying to reverse the process or stop it. She just is, and she looks terrific. I want to be just like her when I grow up.
And YES Universe, I hear you. I HEAR you loud and clear. Strokes. Lung cancer. Healthy people under forty. Many… too many in the last year… I get it. I get it. I promise to curb my unnecessary indulgences… at least a bit. (C’mon now. Bacon is TOTALLY necessary!!) I know that control is an illusion. I know that letting go is better. I will not give myself a stress-induced heart-attack over things I cannot change or fix. Or over the things that don’t matter. I. Am. Working. On. It.
Aging has a way of making a person mellow-the-fuck out naturally. This is a good thing.
I am thankful for all my gifts. I am thankful for all my friends, both real and imaginary cyber. I am thankful for another great year lived. I’d like one hundred more, please. (Okay, I’ll take what I get, but let’s just promise to have good times, okay?)
G.G.
