1. I turned 33 this week. I’ve been having a tough time with that number; what it means, what it doesn’t mean, what it’s leading towards and what it means I’ve left behind. I try not to be the type of person who looks back on their life, tortured by the things they cannot change. Instead, I want to look forward as much as possible—to what is ahead of me. To the wonderful things that will happen to me this year—at 33.
A work trip to a city, a state I’ve never seen before.
Two days spent by the water with my boys.
Finishing writing and re-releasing Finding Lily.
Meals with friends and family.
Waking up beside the love of my life.
… and so many more things I can’t even begin to dream of.
So perhaps 33 won’t be so bad. Maybe it will turn out to be one of the best years of my life.
I certainly hope so.
2. An ex messaged me on my birthday. He was a wonderful boyfriend, but we were young. We thought we knew—but had no idea—who we really were. We’ve both, separately, made wonderful lives for ourselves. Still, it’s odd to look back now, knowing it’s been this long since we were together, knowing how I felt about him back then. It’s a startling reminder that love can fade, but that hurt can, too. I couldn’t imagine my life without him once. But look how well we’ve done. Apart. The way we were meant to be.
The truth is that it made me unbelievably happy to know he was thinking of me on my birthday, if only for the five seconds it look him to reach out.
3. There’s somewhere I’ve been wanting to go. A real destination, not some place in my head like I often go to. There, the trees are thick and plentiful. The water calls for me. Nothing but fresh air. Nothing but quiet.
We may go, finally. But it’s not for certain, and by saying the name out loud I feel like I may stop it from happening. So I’ll keep it in my head and my heart, for now.