Monday, September 17, 2012

TWENTY SEVEN:

Overwhelmed & out of breath, I am lost as to what is appropriate here.  What do I say?  What do I do with my hands?

I'll be turning 27 soon.  Isn't that a feat?  At 27 wasn't I supposed to have some job at a fun corporation, writing, doing what I loved?  Wasn't I supposed to have a family, a home?  Wasn't I supposed to have it all figured out?  Sorry self, I supposed you'll just have to deal with what I CAN give you.

In 7 days I'll be 27.  I'll be in school, in love, on the road to paying off debt, making room for improvements like moving out of that house I once called home.  I will be holding hands with the man I love, watching my puppy lick frosting from my legs, not knowing how it got there in the first place.  I will take a deep breath, I will close my eyes, & I will laugh.  I'll laugh at all the ridiculous cards I've been dealt & how I've managed to stay sane, stay open, stay true.  I'll laugh at my dog, how I almost lost him, how he means the world to me - this little brown beagle.  I'll laugh at how me & Jonathan met, how I love his name, how I'll never stop getting butterflies from his touch, the thought of him, his voice, his love.  I'll laugh at how silly we all look in our party dresses, drinking champagne, eating sparkling cake, enjoying life for what it is because I'll be damned if I don't.

What's not to enjoy?  This is all overwhelmingly amazing.  This is perfection.

I'll remember when I first met Jonathan, & how I knew he was the one for me.  I'll remember all the friends I've loved & lost, & how even though it's dead & gone, the past has shaped me into this creature of myths.  I could have never dreamed up a love like this, a life so golden, a poetic self.  Beatniks be damned, I refuse to rhyme my words, or connect my thoughts.  Because all of this is what matters most.  This purity, this love, this life I'm living.  With the warm Autumn air flowing through the window, the sound of a skipping record left unattended from the night before, the smell of flowers.  "I'll always keep fresh flowers in my home."  I always said that.  I still do.  & I do.  With everything so perfect what's the point of unappreciative thoughts, overly-high standards, & the desire for more?  Nothing.

So, here's to you, 27.  May this be my year to grow.  To grow up, to grow out, to grow in.  In love, in light, & in this magical world we live in.  Here's to you, & here's to me, because damn - we've made it so far.

Here's to now.

5 comments:

  1. Cheers to now!

    I'm glad you don't live your life by misguided thoughts of what you are SUPPOSED to do. There is no manual to life, there is no blueprint that could have led us to meet each other. Being you is why I fell in love with you, and staying true is why I get excited to see you, even if it's only been the ten minutes it took me to run an errand. Here's to 27!

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  2. This is beautifully written, lady. Honest and inspiring perspective. :) Have a great rest of your Monday and a wonderful birthday!

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  3. You have made it so far and I believe that there are still some more good things to come for both you and I. This was very beautifully written my dear friend. I will admit I almost panicked because I thought I had missed your birthday and then I remember that it is still a week away.

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  4. This was very sweet to read. I hope your 27th year is the best yet.

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  5. 27 is Awesome! we will never have it figured out so its all good girl!!

    To 27 I am raising my vodka soda lime up to you right now and i am going to drink to CAL!!!!
    xo
    B

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