Birthday Reflections

 August, die she must 

    My birthday was a few Thursdays ago. In the late afternoon, Abby Ferg sent Madi and I a text about a magical encounter she had while at work at the museum in Fergus. She was outside and an older lady from the retirement home was being biked around by an individual and they stopped to chat with her. Abby said that although it was clear that the elderly woman was forgetful, it did not stop her from sharing about her life. She told Abby that in her career, the men that she supervised would tell her how young she was, even though she was old. She said something along the lines of "Everything changes and sometimes you take a turn and it's the end but you need it to... for something new, to go onto the next. You know what? Everything changes and nothing changes. I'm old but I'm young. Do you understand?" 

    I'd like to think that when I'm her age, I will feel that at peace with myself, with my life. 

    Like many of my friends, and probably most people, I think each individual's birthday is a catalyst for feelings and thoughts of reflection. Reflection of what makes up each person. How did you spend your time this year? Did you reach your personal goals? Did you text back your friends? Remember to call your family?

    Did you feel happy? Are you happier now as compared to last year? 

    Did you change? Of course I did. Everything changed and nothing changed. I'd like to find that old lady and tell her that I think I understand. I don't know her, but I can picture her saying that I'm probably too young to completely grasp her perspective. 

    When I worked at the retirement home, I used to know someone like her. She knew me many birthdays ago. As I would clean up the dishes in the dining room, she would ask me timely questions about my upcoming high school graduation or when I would start university. When I would come back home from university, I visited her a few times. I would leave, nauseous, after each visit. My stomach would twist as she repeated the same questions, over and over. I would tell her about my new dorm and my new life and she would ask me about prom and parts of me that didn't exist anymore. In that moment, everything changed. For her, nothing had. 

    I still have the bracelet she gave me. 

    Since last August 15, I have changed in many ways. On my last birthday, I was on a plane with Lily, returning back from England. We woke up so early in the morning to make it to the airport. We took the train from London Station to Heathrow Airport and admired the haze of the English countryside; the fog that coated the rooftops of homes. On 3 or 4 hours of sleep, we decided to wrap up our trip with a mimosa. It was 7 something in the morning and we both cringed at the lack of orange juice in the cup that sent a shock to our nerves. The day was 29 hours long and I was dead tired but still managed to eat cake with my family. Madi was supposed to come over so I could share stories from my trip, but I slept through her texts and calls. I finally told her everything days later in my bedroom while I sorted through postcards. Like every year, we celebrated our birthday together in the following weeks. 

    In the past year, I have felt myself change in many ways. Certain ways that are so significant that it's hard to write them for you here, and ways that are so minuscule that I don't know if they need to be written. But I have learned that any kind of change, whether one that is so apparent or one that is nearly invisible, should be given a little reward. A gold star on your collar. My gold stars from this past year are made from new ways that I'm proud of myself. For trying new things. For handling disappointment. For meeting new people. For pushing through missing friends and family. For moving to a new place. For writing resumes and reading rejection emails. For giving myself grace. 

    For finding moments of peace and remembering that I'm made of them. I'm made of the love that I have when I stir the batter for blueberry muffins. I'm made of the love that I pour into texts to my friends. I'm made of the love of everyone around me. 

    This year, I was made up of the love of all my friends when we went out for a drink the night before my birthday. I have never (completely) celebrated my birthday while not at home, so this was new. It was also a new ish group of people and I liked that the idea didn't make me nervous. If anything, it was a shock to me. I sat at the head of the table and began to recognize everyone around me. I've always felt that birthdays are this weird time where you're supposed to celebrate yourself and it feels so selfish. But I didn't feel selfish. I felt so appreciative and relaxed because I was able to enjoy myself and I could see that those around me were having a good time too.  

    I feel as though I have come to understand certain things that I want in life. I know as many future birthdays of mine will be experienced and become the past, those ideals and goals will shift. I don't know what future version of myself I will want to become. I know every year around the sun will pass and I will grow old and stay reflective. Truly, I just hope to still feel connected by those around me like I did that one evening. 

    I live between moments where everything and nothing changes.