I’m sitting here, on the night of my thirty-sixth birthday, listening to the hollowing winds and sipping my rum and Diet Coke. It’s been a good day and I’m thinking about how it feels to enter the second half of my thirties.
It’s funny, for some reason I think of 36 as the age of parents. I think it was the age my parents were when I first realized how old they were. For some reason, when I learn someone’s age, they sort of stay that age in my mind forever. To me, thirty-six is a parental age and that’s largely how I identify myself these days.
Yesterday I made my first “anti-aging” cosmetic purchase. I got a dark spot corrector after several weeks of examining the dark spots on my upper cheeks. I told myself that they were freckles for quite awhile before admitting they were dark spots from the sun and needed repair. Ironically, I was at a gathering yesterday and chatting with a friend-of-a-friend when I noted that Humboldt County was my home. She replied, “Oh, you’re from Northern California, that’s why you have such nice skin, you weren’t out in the sun all the time.”
One person’s sun spots are another person’s nice skin, apparently.
It was wonderful to enjoy a divine service on my birthday and then attend a congregational meeting with my church family afterwards. However, I was highly embarrassed (and I’m sure beet red) when Pastor started the meeting by having everyone sing “Happy Birthday” to me. He said, “Let’s all wish Kelsey a happy 49th birthday,” which got a good laugh.
We had a little cocktail party this afternoon with some good friends. My friend Mahmoud kept wishing me a “Happy 26th Birthday,” which tickled me. Most of the friends who gathered this evening were in their 40s or 50s, so he was teasing me about being the youngest.
Funny, there was little mention of my actual age today. It seems to be a fitting commentary on this stage of life… I’m somewhere between 26 and 49. 🙂