gone today
I briefly dated a boy who'd been raised Jehovah Witness, till he got DFed for smoking pot and holding hands with an outsider. Our relationship initially kicked off with a three hour hike through the hills, where, high as kites, we recanted childhood memories while jumping fences and throwing rocks. Midway through the telling of my Skateland party in the fourth grade, my joy wilted at the realization that he'd missed out on all the fun of birthdays. I remember, at that moment, it seemed absolutely tragic to have never shoved your hands into an ice cream cake, or received a goody bag, or wished upon a trick candle. My feeling of empathy was only increased when he told me about his twenty-sixth first birthday party earlier that year.
Too late, I thought, offering a small sad smile of encouragement as I listened to him describe his presents...
My memory was still holding on to the old days, when a birthday party was like a picked holiday, a circus love fest, where all the people you like the very most gathered together to actually thank you for being born. I think somewhere in the back of my mind I'm always secretly expecting something (magic).
My birthday passed exactly one week ago. I had a nice simple dinner with my parents and watched a movie on direct TV. I ended my night by doing three miles around the track- I had the evening off.
Anticipating the end of April, I'd mulled over different idea's, but by the eve of I just kind of shrugged it off. I'm broke, which seemed like good justification for not doing anything to celebrate. I could have scrounged for change, sold my remaining dvd's, then partied like time's going backwards ...but I have a hard time faking it.
The significance of a birthday is it's ability to happen year in, year out, and can be used as a correct measurement of time from which we can push off from and begin anew. I feel as though the distance of events in the time spanning from exactly one year ago, to a week later, to today, is lined and littered with weighty events which were edifying, as well as unique from one to the other. It's like my life line grew three inches. If I chose it, I could tug at my memory and sift through the dust and diamonds, reenact all my minor roles till they're campfire gold ...yet, in being told that I'm just beginning to hit those years when it is good to be young, I think that I've arrived at the sort of truth which I've waited twenty-two years (maybe give or take) to unwrap: it is so good to just live it out.
Too late, I thought, offering a small sad smile of encouragement as I listened to him describe his presents...
My memory was still holding on to the old days, when a birthday party was like a picked holiday, a circus love fest, where all the people you like the very most gathered together to actually thank you for being born. I think somewhere in the back of my mind I'm always secretly expecting something (magic).
My birthday passed exactly one week ago. I had a nice simple dinner with my parents and watched a movie on direct TV. I ended my night by doing three miles around the track- I had the evening off.
Anticipating the end of April, I'd mulled over different idea's, but by the eve of I just kind of shrugged it off. I'm broke, which seemed like good justification for not doing anything to celebrate. I could have scrounged for change, sold my remaining dvd's, then partied like time's going backwards ...but I have a hard time faking it.
The significance of a birthday is it's ability to happen year in, year out, and can be used as a correct measurement of time from which we can push off from and begin anew. I feel as though the distance of events in the time spanning from exactly one year ago, to a week later, to today, is lined and littered with weighty events which were edifying, as well as unique from one to the other. It's like my life line grew three inches. If I chose it, I could tug at my memory and sift through the dust and diamonds, reenact all my minor roles till they're campfire gold ...yet, in being told that I'm just beginning to hit those years when it is good to be young, I think that I've arrived at the sort of truth which I've waited twenty-two years (maybe give or take) to unwrap: it is so good to just live it out.