Hi friends - it's me. See me up there? I'm rowing in Central Park.
Well, Joe is rowing.
I am posing for photos.
So it's my birthday tomorrow. I'm sitting here thinking about how 25 didn't feel as epic as I thought it would. For some reason I thought 25 would be the peak of my young adulthood. It was definitely not the year I was expecting. And tomorrow I will be 26. I don't think I'll feel much different from the way I feel now. Strange thing, birthdays.
I wonder if I'll think of Mom tomorrow. Afterall, she did a lot of the work on my birthday - the work of getting me here. Maybe I'll summon the courage to crack open my baby book and read the handwritten birth story she recorded. But maybe I'll save that for another day. I've never read it, and I wonder how her thoughts about bringing life into the world will seem to me now. Now that I have brought forth life and hers is no more. A lot can happen in 25 years.
I had a much different plan for how this year would go for me - even made a list of things I'd hoped to accomplish. I did birth that baby (a story I've been meaning to share, but have yet to sit down to) And I did a lot of reading. My favorite books were In Defense of Food and This I Believe. I didn't make it to another country or go sailing but I did pick apples in the fall. I purchased a couple different eyeliners but have yet to open any of them. The list I made last year looks so girlish to me now. So naive. It's as though years have passed instead of months. I know I'm not that much wiser than I was a year ago, but I have figured out one thing.
I am not in control. Of any of it. I could write a whole novel about all the things I once thought I could control but have since realized I cannot. Suffice it to say, this year there is no real list. Nothing I can check off. This year I will continue my journey toward living the most authentic life I can muster. There is so much to learn about surrender and acceptance and love. My goals for 26 are not as defined as they were for 25. But if I had to put them in writing, it would look something like this.
More digging in the dirt.
More deep breaths.
Less television.
More books.
More letters.
Less internet.
More inward reflection.
Less comparison.
More art and laughter and creation.
Less consumption.
More time outside.
Less drive for perfection.
More hugs.
More giving and receiving.
More honesty.
More abundance.
I don't know how to end a post like this, so here is a photo of Joe. I don't talk about him much here, but he is absolutely my solid place. 25 would have been unbearable without him. The kindness of his heart comes right through his eyes, and I am so grateful that he's mine.
I love him so much, in fact, that I accidentally picked out glasses identical to his.
So now when people see us on the street, there is no mistaking that we are a match.
Lucky me.
