ocean liners

It's time to gather. Gather up.

Today is my birthday. I read somewhere that it is good to treat your birthday like a farewell party, as though you are saying goodbye to your former self. I like this idea. I like how kind it seems. I like that while it involves shrugging off a layer of self, it also implies a sort of embracing of the old, thanking it for what it has given up. Like a good pat on the back. Well done, 26-year-old me. You deserve a pedicure and some ice cream. You've been good company, champ.

I imagine my 26-year-old self on the deck of some great ship. She waves to me, I wave back. She deserves a serious vacation.

I try to take the time each year to reflect. I don't feel particularly inclined to do that this year. Perhaps it is feeling as though I am still transitioning, and trying to fathom myself in any kind of static state is simply impossible. Perhaps I'm still coming to terms with this past year.

This is not where I thought I would be. Every day I wake up and have to take a breath to reacquaint myself with this life. It still feels unfamiliar. I am becoming okay with this feeling, with the hole at my side, but when I think about it too hard, or try to hold visions of these two lives at once -

All of which is to say that there will be no deep thoughts this year. Instead: house-made spaghetti with ricotta and an egg yolk; gothic romance on the moors; driving through Baltimore with the doors locked; smart people reading their smart books; chips & salsa; root beer float cupcakes; a turntable; bowling shoes; berry pound cake; thrifting; NoVa's entire selection of classic musicals on vinyl; pho; Katy Perry; getting lost, being found.

She's sipping champagne on the upper deck. She's casting off the coil. But the wealth of life and love around me is overwhelming. There is nowhere else I would rather be.