Birthday…

Oh God, I’m old.

Old.

Ancient.

Spinster.

Maiden.

Decrepit.

Useless.

Past my Prime.

Old.

How old am I?

26, (hides face in shame)

Don’t look at me.

Why are you laughing?

I’m serious!

Old.

You don’t understand.

I live with my mother.

I’ve never been in love.

No that one didn’t count.

Because, he didn’t love me back.

Old.

I don’t know what I am going to do with the rest of my life.

I’m considering going back to school, AT MY AGE.

I’m going to be that sad old lady hanging out in the middle of the class with 18 year olds surrounding me.

I drink coffee.

Regularly.

I have had a “career”, of sorts.

I have retired from that career.

Old.

I don’t have children.

I have no husband.

I have no plans or prospects for either.

You don’t understand.

In my town, I was behind the curve at 21.

That was five years ago.

FIVE.

Old.

A birthday is a celebration.

Celebration?

It’s a marker.

Of your age.

An age that is ever creeping upwards.

A cycle that will never end.

Twenty-six trips round the sun.

Trips I will never get back.

Old.

My baby brother is getting married.

He’s Twenty.

Twenty.

He proposed a lifetime, before his first legal drink.

He’s a smart man.

He found his love early.

Still makes me feel…

Old.

I spent the evening celebrating with the ladies in my family.

Laughing,

talking,

eating delicious food.

The waiter sang me happy birthday.

He had a beautiful voice.

The margarita was salty and delicious.

I drank half of moms too.

A great celebration, but still I am…

Old.

I have to be up in about six hours.

This thought makes me want to cry.

Six hours is not enough sleep!

I’m going to go play with babies, while parents younger than I am go to church.

I am old enough to be any of these babies parent.

Old.

I’ve decided that I am going to have adventures this year.

Maybe a new tattoo.

I might jump out of a plane.

I’m signing up for a 5K.

I’m going to go explore Austin.

I’ve started thinking about dating.

Still not certain on that one.

I’m blogging now.

All of this is exciting, but it makes me no less…

Old.

I am old.

Can we at least leave the candles off the carrot cake?

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8 thoughts on “Birthday…

  1. Aww, honey. I still think that time in my twenties was the perfect age. Married? Sure, you’re old enough. Single? You’ve got plenty of time. Old enough to be a mother, to have started a career, to have finished school, but if not, you’ve still got plenty of time. Let me repeat, plenty of time. Happy birthday!

    Like

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