Oh, thirties. You've been so wonderfully torturous. So imperfectly perfect.
You've given me love, laughter, travel, family, career growth, spiritual growth, physical growth, friends, ideas, forgiveness, accomplishment, hospitality, generosity and a bunion, I think. I am profoundly grateful for the fortitude, steadfastness and courage that have accompanied each day of these years.
My wish, on this the last day of this passage, is that I get to take all of it with me into the next chapter, so that I can begin with advantage instead of nubile ignorance. I will step forward, lock my elbow into wisdom's, and together we get to start a whole new decade with smarts, looks and virtues.
A bit squishier than at 29, I am a bit more sure of myself, too (as sure as my genetics will allow). Ready to take the call. Ready to share. Ready to just do this. Friends have lamented their turning. I don't feel lament at all. I feel excitement, like a Nigerian sprinter poised at the starting line. I suppose that's the benefit of being a late bloomer—old to others always feels new to you.
Cheers to this birthday! Cheers to those days and these!
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