The 8th Anniversary of my 29th Birthday

My sister’s birthday is tomorrow. I never forget her birthday, which isn’t quite as amazing as it sounds once you find out we’re twins. So forgetting her birthday isn’t really an option.

And it’s not much of an option for most of our family because, really, all they have to do is remember one day. Something about two birds with one stone… Anyway, tomorrow’s it. Another year older.

With each passing year I tuck away dreams I know will never come true. Like the dream of being an aspiring Olympic anything, or winning a Pulitzer Prize. Or logging hour after hour behind the mic of a major-market FM radio station. The older I get, the more my career options slip away.

But it’s not just careers I have to say good-bye to; there are parts of me I will never see again. Like smooth skin around my eyes. The wrinkles are babies now, but I know their mommas are coming. And my boobs. Put the effects of nursing three babies and gravity together and you know I’m just never going to see them again.

I don’t get worked up about my birthday. Sean and I go out for dinner, but we don’t usually do big presents or parties or anything like that. This year, thought, I got an iPod, something I’ve been wishing for for years! My friend Linda has one and I’ve pined away for hers each time I saw it. So now I finally have one. Well, I actually don’t have it; my brother-in-law has it, because I bought one for my sister, too. Both of them got sent to South Carolina… long story. But Heather is shipping one up to me, so I should have it by Tuesday. I can hardly wait.

I’ll go to bed tonight a girl in her mid-thirties and wake up a girl in her late-thirties. I don’t think I’m ready to be “late” anything. Maybe I can push “mid-thirties” one more year… shouldn’t “late” begin at 38? I think it can for me.

So tomorrow I’ll wake up, get everyone ready for church as usual, and I’ll wait for the phone to ring at 10:10 am. When I answer, my little sister will say, “Happy Birthday! I’m a year younger!” For all of six minutes she will revel in the knowledge that she’s the younger one. I don’t have to wait long for justice; at 10:16 she’ll turn 37, too, and I’ll sing “Happy Birthday” to her, and we’ll both sigh and realize time marches on.