So it is my birthday. My thirty-fourth birthday to be exact. I know I’m not supposed to tell you that. I am well aware that when you are no longer twenty-something, age is not supposed to be something that you share … but I’m sharing it anyway, because I’m grateful. I’m grateful that in these thirty-four years I have memories that keep me in good company, regardless of the number that is growing ever on. While I may not want the visual affirmation of decades of candles on my cake … I do like what my mother believes about wishes. She says you get a wish for every year, for every fire lit sparkle that keeps hope dancing above the frosting.
I have no idea what this new year holds, but I wanted to mark and welcome it with a bit of a retrospective peek into who I’ve been, and what each year has held for me so far. Me in time-capsule-doses. This life has been ordinary magic … and I thank so many of you for quite literally bringing my wishes to life.
Year One: I was blessed with an exceptional mom and dad, who inspire me still.
Year Two: My sister decided to love me, and has never stopped.
Year Three: My best-cousin and I become life-long partners.
Year Four: I believe with every fiber of my being in Santa Claus.
Year Five: I met the boy next door, who pretty much shaped my sister and my play days ever summer thereafter.
Year Six: I discover that not all teachers should be.
Year Seven: I become enamored with dinosaurs.
Year Eight: I discover the fun of Halloween (matching Pandas mommy and me).
Year Nine: I move for the first time.
Year Ten: I lose my dog … my first best friend.
Year Eleven: My kindred-spirit grandmother moves in.
Year Twelve: I meet my best friend.
Year Thirteen: I am immersed in the power of sleepovers!
Year Fourteen: High school begins, and all that goes with it.
Year Fifteen: I become a dancer.
Year Sixteen: I fall in love for the first time … and recognize the influence of a heart above all things … even sense.
Year Seventeen: I meet someone who calls me back to myself.
Year Eighteen: I go away to college with the best roomie a cousin could ask for.
Year Nineteen: I meet the man I am going to marry, who picks up and protects my heart.
Year Twenty: I enter into the School of Education to become a teacher.
Year Twenty-One: I graduate, get married, and get lost in Europe with my new husband.
Year Twenty-Two: I get my first teaching job, and become a first time auntie.
Year Twenty-Three: I experience infertility and the heartache that goes with missing something you’ve never even had.
Year Twenty-Four: I graduate from graduate school, and we drive the Romantic Road in Germany.
Year Twenty-Five: I get to know the wonder of my world … my son.
Year Twenty-Six: I choose to stay at home with my son and begin to write.
Year Twenty-Seven: I get to know the second wonder of my world … my daughter.
Year Twenty-Eight: I am diagnosed with Celiac’s Disease.
Year Twenty-Nine: My parents move, and my grandfather dies … and I feel the last bit of my childhood taken from me.
Year Thirty: We get our first puppy, who now weighs 100 lbs.
Year Thirty-One: I get my first children’s book published.
Year Thirty-Two: I taste a fairy tale and meet my husband in Cannes, France for the weekend.
Year Thirty-Three: I get published by my favorite magazine in the world twice.
Year Thirty-Four: Yet to be determined, but sure to be an adventure!
My wish? Tell me about your most memorable year! Share, post, comment! Give me the gift of words … they’re my favorite treat!