As of today, I have been alive 11,319 days. I am old.
A birthday is looming in my future. These last few days before a birthday usually bring up strange emotions. Last year, it was ambivalence. 29 was unadulterated excitement. 2007 was peaceful. This year could be described as purposeful.
I’m feeling mortal these days. I hear the sirens call out around me and I read about people younger than me dying and it invigorates me to do more while simultaneously striking fear in my bones. It’s a perpetual state of conflict, I suppose. I close my eyes and feel myself falling, wondering where I am going to land. I feel in flux.
Truth be told, 31 slips off my tongue easier than 30. I am embracing my age. I feel a tiny bit wiser with every crack of my hip bones in the morning. I find the youth of my co-workers amusing rather than revolting (this means that I have finally matured). I feel a calmness finding its place in the new baby wrinkles in my smilelines. This getting old thing is alright; if nothing else, it means I have more time to do all the stuff I need to do.
I need to love another dog. I should learn how to cook a decent tamale. I want to dip my toes into the clear blue of the Mediterranean. I want kiss under the stars and wrestle in the mud. I want to buy skates and try out for roller derby. And I want to see you, whoever you are.







A July Like Every Other July
A calm July would make me nervous; birthday months are for tumult and upheaval, right?
A much-needed reunion with my much-beloved friend who has known me longer than anyone else became my grounding strip, the thing that plants my feet back on the ground.
Our reunion started with a late night Denny’s trip to reconnect to our awkward 17 year old selves on those restless Albuquerque nights where the only thing we could legally do at midnight was drink too much coffee at Village Inn and talk about new loves.
Our 31 year old selves on a quiet Portland night blended talk of work and life and dreams and history, with yawns as a reminder that we are not as sprightly as we once were. It was perfect. There is nothing more refreshing than spending time who remembers what you were like as an angry 15 year old kid, stomping around awkward high school halls with everything to prove and nothing to lose.
And now, after a whirlwind trip, a renewed clarity brings a spring to my step. I won’t pretend to know where I am headed, but I know I have my people behind me. I love my people. You all are my breath and my grounding strips and my blood and the thing that I think about in those moments of panic.
Thank you.