Twenty-nine

For the first and only time, I turn 29 today. I sighed when Beautiful Colleague asked me what is becoming a rather predictable question.

"I've been 28 so I'm officially 29 tomorrow." I said yesterday. "I'll turn 30 next year, exactly as scheduled. I think I accepted I was getting old after 25, which is silly, but these birthdays don't mean a whole lot anymore."

"You seem younger." Beautiful Colleague noted and Boss nodded his agreement.

"Thanks," I offered, "but it's probably because I act like a child a little too often." They both said that was silly, told me to have a nice day with my parents and we waved as we headed separate directions.

I am celebrating my birthday as little ones do though. Mom and Dad arrived last night and will spend the weekend. Mom and I have massages scheduled in a few hours. We'll eat out and I shall open the present that is much taller (it comes to my chest) than it is wide. I will have a frosted thumbprint cookie from my favorite bakery near where my grandparents used to live. We may do a bit of shopping after we drop by the office to replant my violet in a new self-watering pot. It should be a good day.

And if I couldn't get back to sleep as I begin my 30th year (or does that happen tomorrow? I'm easily confused by these things) because I'm not in love and my professional future is relatively unclear and I'm unhappy about my appearance and unsure of my overall appeal to employers or friends or the world in general? Well, that's why I'm only turning 29 once. With the hope that the arrival of my 30s will bring about some happy resolutions to these issues. And that this year will be a pleasant way to move toward that end.