44

 44 has wiggled and wormed its way into my existence and my life on this next trip I’m taking around the sun. It’s impossible to believe that my birthday was actually over a month ago and I’m just now sitting down to write about it, but here we are. Life. 

On the morning of my birthday, I woke very early – predawn early - to give a farewell hug to a friend who had been crashing in my apartment for the week as she was off to catch an early bird flight.  In my last hour as a 43-year-old – what a thing that I’ll never again be 43 – I climbed back into bed, dozing until my actual birth time of 6:40am, when I woke again to officially welcome in my new year.

 

People ask how I spent my birthday this year and I have to tell them the majority of the day was spent in a car.  I drove from New York to Boston, my dog sleeping peacefully in the backseat, all while I tried to stay Zen and not let the state of Connecticut and its maddening traffic ruin my birthday vibe.  The day was, truthfully, a tad anticlimactic, but I did make it to Massachusetts in time to get some birthday hugs from the friends watching my pup for the weekend and then into Boston for a birthday dinner soiree with a few friends so all was not lost.  

Really though, I sort of let 44 come and go and I'm only just now sitting down to officially welcome it in. Well, better late than never.

 

So, yes, this birthday unfolded slowly and instead of celebrating in one manic burst only on my birthday, I wove together a smattering of small delights to ring in 44. The night before my birthday I saw one of my writing heroes, Ann Patchett, in Brooklyn with some dear friends – the kind of friends who indulge my birthday request to go to an author reading instead of a night out on the town.  My entire reason for heading to Boston on my actual birthday was to head to the White Mountains on New Hampshire on Friday morning for an annual yoga/hiking weekend retreat, one I haven’t missed yet in the last ten or so years, which was a delightful birthday weekend.

 

Maybe 44 can unfold slowly and be quietly celebratory for all of the next 330 odd days it has to shine.  I heard from many dear friends on (or near) my birthday. I was pleasantly surprised by some people reaching out, slightly disappointed when I didn’t hear from others when I was sure I would, but it all evens out in the end.  I guess when I think about my 40’s in general, I think about the ebb and flow of things quite a lot.  Some days, months, years have been really hard (Are those the years of questions?) while others have been bright and beautiful and so full of joy that I have to catch my breath. (The years of answers?)

 

Those that have known me for a long time know that I always treat myself to one special thing on my birthday, one item I might not normally indulge in, and the treat is that I’m not allowed to hesitate or worry about the expense.  It’s my own sweet birthday tradition, one born the year I turned 23, when spending $30 on a bag at Urban Outfitters felt like absolutely the most indulgent gift I could ever give myself.

 

I wish I’d written down each year of birthday gifts since then.  Some of them I vividly remember – a fancy (aka not the Gap) pair of jeans when I was 25, a Broadway ticket to see Wicked back when it was the hottest show in town, a pair of boots I coveted from Anthropologie, and a turquoise tea kettle are some that spring vividly to mind.  This year, my mother gifted me the necklace I’d had my eye on so no need to purchase that.  And truthfully, I’ve been eyeing sweaters from Sezane for ages but have yet to check out what is in my online cart.  (With a NYC closet bursting at the seams it is hard to justify more clothes!). Eventually I decided I’d focus on a little self-care.  I let myself go for a facial – something I NEVER let myself spend money on.  The last facial I had was, um, I think around my 40^th birthday? So, four years later I figured I should be allowed to treat myself.  I even let myself buy the fancy serum they recommended when the facial was over, and I handed over my credit card knowing full well I’d let them talk me into that purchase in a moment of post facial relaxed bliss.  But you know what?  Happy Birthday to me.

 

With each year that I am here, I realize more and more what a fortunate and lucky thing it is to stay alive and healthy and see another year unfold.  That, in and of itself is the best birthday present going.  44 – there is still so much more in store.