Thirty in less than three weeks.
I know I wrote about my birthday a few weeks or months ago.
I am not sad in a traditional sense about turning thirty.
In some ways, I am excited.
Especially since a few friends of mine have planned a surprise for me.
For me, this is the decade things will be accomplished in a traditional sense for me.
I will have my degree in May 2011 at thirty & a half.
I may possibly get married (again) during the next decade.
And I will hopefully have children too.
For me, it is more strange weird eerie feeling.
Not regretful.
Unlike some people, I have traveled some so I cannot really regret that.
I am not as thin as I would like but I am okay, at the moment, with that fact.
It just does not seem real.
Not just because time flies and twenty-one seems like five years ago versus almost ten.
But because most days in my head it is still 2008.
Yes, it feels like two years have past but part of me does not want to go past 2008.
Instead, a 2008 part III.
There is one bit of sadness.
No gift from Roger.
After getting a posthumous gift for my twenty-eighth part of me wants another.
Selfish perhaps.
But I wonder what it would be like.
So thirty here I come.
I hope you are ready for me.
A new decade, a new beginning.
2 comments:
I couldn't WAIT to turn 30. Given that Charley died when I, like you, was 27 (and almost 28), the last few years of my 20s sucked royal, @#!*ing ass and I figured that there was no way my 30s could be worse. No sadness from me at all to put my 20s behind me, even though it also some exciting, wonderful things--marrying Charley, having Anna, moving into our beautiful house. But gosh, you had such good things happen in your 20s too, people said to me when I'd bitch about my late 20s and extol turning 30. Yeah, sorry. I don't care HOW great some of those things were; Charley's dying kind of eradicated it all...just a wee little bit.
And now I'll be 33 in a few weeks. Eek. Ugh. 30 was great, 31 was fine...the sound of 32 was weird, though, and 33 kind of makes me shudder. My life is nowhere near what I once thought and assumed it would be at 33, and I think that's what bothers me about it. The whole being-single thing and it being the last solidly good chunk of my child-bearing years really bothers me, I think.
I'm glad you're looking forward to the next decade and birthday. It seems like ages ago that I was at that point, although it was only 3 years ago. Weird...and deja vu too, to have to think about things that are still so solidly in the full-fog stage of grief.
Hugs, my friend!
I just renamed and redid my blog. It was called A Widow for One Year and now I have a similar name to yours (I guess we both like The Talking Heads). Anywho, I was just made aware of your blog since my name change.
I turned 40 6 months after my husband died. It sucked.
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