Who Decided I was a Grown-up?

I’m going to be thirty five soon.  I really don’t know how this happened.  One moment I’m in college shooting cheap daiquiris onto the ceiling, and the next I’m driving my sedan to the mall to buy vacuum cleaner filters.

I really felt it, though, when my daughter asked me if I was excited about my birthday.  After all, there’s nothing more exciting to a six year old than a birthday.  I found I wasn’t, especially.  I don’t object to getting older; after all, it’s better than the alternative.  And life has been good so far, so I’m excited to see what happens next.  Yet overall, the prospect of the day itself isn’t that exciting.

I’m going to go to the museum with my mother and aunts, which I’m looking forward to very much, but mostly because I want to see my family, and I love museums.  I’ll get to have dinner with my parents, husband and my girls, always fun.  With cake, even better.

My husband and I decided that for my birthday (and every other holiday this year) I’m getting landscaping materials.  I have two projects in the yard I’ve been dying to finish.  One is a rocked in, raised bed that is a future home for a fragrant tree rose.  The other is a set of raised vegetable beds.  I have one bed, but the previous owners planted strawberries there, and the strawberries have not only taken over the bed, they have vined down into the lawn.  They choked out everything else I planted.

I love to garden, and I’m so excited at the prospect of finally finishing these things.  It’ll be beautiful, and the girls love working in the garden.  But in the end, my birthday present is rocks and dirt.  I’m happy about my rocks and dirt, but I can feel that shadow of age draping itself over me.

And what about next year? Probably…garage shelving.  Or bookshelves.  And I’d be happy about those, too.  M told me I was boring, and she doesn’t want to be a grown-up if it meant she got rocks for her birthday.  I told her when I was six I felt the same way.  She suggested that we go to the shopping center, and I could buy myself something fun and pretend it was from her.  That sounds fun, too.


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