One score and nine years ago, I entered this world. Oh, the wisdom and brilliance I should share. The tales of greatness. The feats of daring. Acts of beauty. There are some of each of those I could tell, however not nearly as many as one might figure that there should be. After all, in a years time, I will be entering a whole new decade. It surprises me how much I am not dreading that. I don’t want to rush it, but not desperate to slow it down either. Eleven years from now? That is an entirely different story.
In over a decade of horrific birthday periods, this one has been wonderful. Nothing huge or lavish. Just simple, sincere, and clean. The way I like it. I am surrounded by friends that love me and that amaze me with their brilliance, family that gets better every passing year, a boyfriend who I love and am not freaking out about (who am I?), and two little dogs I would die for (however silly some would think that is).
As a child I looked to the future and pictured what I thought it would be like. This is nothing like what I had envisioned. If I would have known what my life would be: gay, tattooed, teacher, aspiring writer, occasional drinker, occasional skydiver, sarcastic. . . I would have been devastated. Thank God it didn’t go the way I had it planned. Truly.
I have no idea where the next decade, or even the next few years will take me. Husband? Kids? Book? Better body? Worse body? What amazing things will happen? What horrific things will come to pass? Who will I gain? Who will I lose? I don’t know.
I know this. Life will continue, either way. There will be many, many more tears. There will be even more laughter. For the first time on a birthday, I will look in the mirror and recognize the man peering back, and I will like that man.
Black Coffee Tables
1 year ago