Wednesday, May 31, 2017


I am 36 years old. Thirty and six. How? When?

Of course there is reflecting. I skim all the lives lived like shuffling a deck of cards--the sound of them stacking is somewhere between a hum and a rip. Steel trap mind hugs it all. Sometimes I recall the most random-seeming things. An empty stage after I left it. The ends of my inksister's hair lifting with the wind. D insisting that I keep my eyes closed during my first time through Pittsburgh's Liberty Tunnel. The moment I opened them. Bagels in New York. Litter in the Nile. My friends dancing wild and free to music. Hauling my bike up three flights of stairs after the ride home from work. The last time I saw my mother. "Always and Forever" playing at the skating rink.

My life has been so incredibly full. Both joy and heartache overflows cups. I am endlessly thankful for all of it. All of it, you hear me? Even the shit that didn't work. Even the bits that tore me down, when concept of regret bobbed lonely to surface. Even depression and her threatened abyss. Without her the rest might not be so stunning.

There are little things. Like I wish my grandparents had lived long enough to know me as an adult. I wish fear didn't seize me as it has in the past, as it might threaten now. I can give solid advice but sometimes I think I could do better at following it. Little things.

I like to reflect, and I know the importance of it, but the older I get the more I find myself interested in now, and in what is next. Mindfulness reminds me that sometimes the most beautiful thing is to be moving and acknowledge the movement and nothing else. Or to catch my own wrist and tune into my heartbeat. These things save me. I feel twice the length of this age but my coworkers guess me at 27. One asked me if my grays were placed on purpose, highlights. I laughed. Oh no. These are mine, igniting since 25.

Thirty-six is a promise of exciting things. I'm in the best shape of my life. My writing is strong and honest. I'm still discovering songs to fall in love with, art that yanks my breath away. I am alive. I am loved. I am nowhere near finished yet.

Here's to my 36th year. I'm ready. Let's go.

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