I do not recall who said this, but it is true- that age comes with wisdom and experience (and eventually senior citizen discounts). The wisdom you might not always use, the experience may not always make you act differently in a similar situation, and the senior person discounts- I will think about that later!

My dear sister, in acknowledging that I have stepped into a new decade wished me, “a good metabolism and lasting health,” unlike the previous years where she willed for me a hell of a great party!

I also do not recall feeling this way, when I turned 11, or 20, about starting a new dawn of ten years. Before I got excited, I went through the birthday blues of feeling soppy and questioning what other defence I’d have for my youth; what did I consider my achievements. See, being in my 20s allowed me to claim that youth outwardly, in as much as I did not feel it inwardly, because my life went something like the story of Benjamin Button. The irony is getting younger as I get older.

Here I am, at thirty, trying to figure out how to be a little more adventurous, how to have a relationship without a checklist and scheduled dates, which feel like dentist appointments; how to eat pizza with friends without having to mention the gluten, how to drink wine without trying to determine the quantity of sulphites in it. Accompanied is that occasional on the list of things to do gallery visit to ensure I do not give in to cultural dearth.

So, instead of worrying about all the sorry’s I give this world and that deadline I have not met, this year is to remembering what my dreams were before the conditions of life determined what role I should play in each situation.

Nonetheless, having said all this, if you may be having a birthday date with me, I will still kindly need to check my calendar, but I promise not to talk about gluten!

Epilogue

The last thing I would do now (that I very much would have done ten years ago), is have a ‘what I have learnt‘ list. Birth is a painful process- labour, anxiety, the shock of your lungs opening up to take that first breathe; then we cry. Life starts with tears before we get to the laughter and joy: it’s messy, it’s deliberate, it’s unpredictable, it’s glorious, it’s brief (with moments that linger forever), it’s here, it’s now; everything outside of that is subject to our faulty memories and enigmatically navigated perceptions.

The currently most meaningful thing are the close knit relationships I have cultivated over the years- and those friendships have been the cathedral I go to when I struggle to retake that first breath of life.

I ought to take this opportunity to commemorate my late mother who, starting 30 years ago, gifted me with the anxiety of life. And thanks to my (as well) gifted daughter, who reminded me to, “think of it this way, you have survived thirty years in this world,” indeed, I have.

*modified feature image photo credit Quaint Photography