Hello 35 — we meet at last. I always knew this day would come, and now that it has I am kind of… bummed. I feel like it’s not possible — it’s too early for me to be thirty-five, it is just too freaking soon. Way too freaking soon. Yes, thirty five years is thirty five years — it doesn’t come later or any earlier for different people. And no, it’s not a villain who is coming for you… but damn, it sure does feel that way.
The rain has been torrential on this gloomy, cold morning. Until about three years ago, I always had a beautiful birthday — it was inevitable. Not so much anymore.
I live in a suburb of Baltimore, so every year now on my birthday I get to hear all about however many years it has been since Freddie Grey and the Baltimore unrest and the riots… heh, happy 32nd birthday, Katie. My 33rd wasn’t any better — I was pregnant. I found out two days before my birthday… I was already 4 and a half months along. I was also pregnant on my 30th birthday — heh, still haven’t encountered a birthday situation that is quite as depressing as turning 30 while pregnant.When I was 18, my car key broke off in the ignition of my car when I turned it on so I spent a large chunk of the day waiting for AAA — yeah, that one was special… almost as special as my 17th birthday when my boyfriend (whom I was planning on breaking up with like… that night) threw me a surprise party on my anticipated “way out,” so instead of breaking up before prom, we broke up after prom (on my actual seventeenth birthday) in my driveway at 4:00am after a night filled with weird tension and understated animosity. On my sixteenth birthday, I found out that I didn’t make the dance troupe I had spent the entire scholastic year preparing to audition for and was all but guaranteed to make it — heh, coulda used that guarantee. Hmm… apparently, I’ve had some pretty crappy birthdays. Oh, let’s not forget about my twenty-sixth birthday when my freaking car got repossessed… not like I didn’t see it coming, but of all possible days!