Acting my age
Today I’m 35. Aside from the artificial weight our counting system gives multiples of five, this fact doesn’t feel that significant. My new age has arrived unaccompanied by any special realization or sense of change (then again, it’s not quite 10am).
I seem to be entering a gradualist phase. It’s like I’m settling into a long drive—focused on the road, making small adjustments to the seat and mirrors. Spasms of doubt and regret (and surprise, I might note) are fewer and easier to ignore.
Is this maturity? Is it resignation? I feel like I’m making room for growth around me. In light of Johanna’s daily transformations (big girl, stoic, peer, prodigy, infant, brat, mini-me), I think stasis has its place. For now.
I know Karl’s with me.
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Happy birthday, Jake. Your “long drive” metaphor resonates; but, while comforting to a degree, it reminds me of the danger of falling asleep at the wheel.
No doubt! The analogy is pretty apt in terms of my outlook — reassuring and not. There’s the confidence that comes with predictability. But you can’t ignore forever what awaits you at the end.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! A few days late, but I’m sure you needed them to digest the lovely cake Sarah made for you (i’m totally guessing, but I’m sure she made you a cake). I’m glad to hear you’re settling in for the drive, instead of getting ready to trade in for a convertible in cliche mid-life crisis fashion. Enjoy your minivan!! And drive out here to NY sometime soon, please
Hey, Jenna!
– Gooey chocolate cakes in individual ramekins (for portion control). Fab, of course.
– No clichés here except in my writing.
– It’s not a minivan, it’s a SPACEWAGON. And when my crisis comes, I will trade down (I’m thinking a Festiva).
– We owe you a visit big time. You’re not moving away are you?
– Thanks for the note. You and Jorge make mid-30s look good.