43

It's my birthday, and I often feel compelled to mark it here on ye old blog. I remember writing for my 33rd birthday so clearly, actually sitting right where I'm sitting right now. I'm glad to know that some things don't change.

Because this year has been so, so much change. Losing my mother and ending my marriage in a six month period during a global pandemic. I mean, that has to be a sub-definition of "A LOT."

But today I feel so, so lucky. I've gotten lovely flowers and a lawn sign from my friends. Hannah draw a picture of the two of us on a happy evening, and Max gave me a lovely cookbook to probably not ever make anything from, but I'll enjoy reading it. 

Forty-three (gratefully, thankfully) feels like so much time left. I've been waiting to feel the peace I've heard about from my friends, and honestly, I'm not sure I'm there yet, but I think I'm closer. I know I'm closer.