More Forty Than Thirty: A Treatise on Self Care and [Finally] Growing Up

I have often been told (mostly by people who don’t believe in such things) that I am an old soul. I was an intelligent and obedient child, quick to finish my homework and patient about standing in line. I was not, for the most part, a problem–and so, for the most part, I was ignored.

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Just Routine: So It Begins

I have a hard time establishing routines. I’m a free spirit, I guess. I like variety: I’ve had a lot of jobs where the words “something different every day” came up in the interview.

I’ve had a lot of jobs, period. Once, during a very brief stint as a catering kitchen assistant, I was carpooling to work with a coworker and discussing our work histories. She’d had two jobs in her life: the restaurant where she’d worked every summer from the beginning of high school all the way through college, and this catering gig.

I tried to remember all of mine. I was twenty-three at the time, and I came up with:

Writing Prompt: Birthdays

Tomorrow is my birthday! I will be 33 years old. Wow. I remember when I had a notebook in which I counted all the days until I turned sixteen (I was twelve at the time and thought sixteen would be a magical age–how wrong I was and how many days I had before I found that out!). It’s almost hard to fathom my age or the “fine lines” appearing on my face or the fact that I’ve got kids and a husband and pets to feed. The older I get, the more complicated my feelings about birthdays become.

So why not write about it? And why not drag you along with me?

That’s our writing prompt for today: birthdays. Whatever it means to you, whatever ideas it conjures. At least five minutes. Go.

Mine: