A Birthday Reflection
some thoughts from my recent tearful train ride
As of writing this, I am currently on the train headed toward DC and I have been crying since I left Woodbridge 30 minutes ago. Every year I complete my birthday tradition of crying the day before. I was hopeful this year would be different, that maybe I could hold my composure but once again I broke. The hot tears couldn’t hold themselves in my eyes, egged on by saying goodbye to my parents at the station and sitting down in my seat alone as I head back to New York. I have lived here for almost 6 months, although it feels shorter and longer than that depending on when you ask me.
I don’t feel like I am turning 26. I didn’t feel like I was 25. Or 24, or 23. I never conceptualized these ages when I was a child. I used to look at college students and think they were so old and mature. Then college came and went, and I am still walking up on days like this feeling like a baby bird. I look at my parents and I wonder if they feel this way too. I hear time and time again that adults don’t actually know what they’re doing, and neither will you, but nothing can prepare you for going through the passing of time yourself. As impossible as it may be, I wish I could hold everyone I love and stop time from passing.
When I visit home, it’s as though I’m observing the ghosts of my past my selves. I walk through my backyard and see my 5-year-old self sitting under an oak tree in my thinking spot, listening to the leave rustle overhead. I see 7-year-old me inspecting fallen tree branches with wavy lines drawn in them by termites, except I imagine they’re writing from some wonderful ancient civilization (or maybe even aliens). I see a 12-year-old me carrying her first cell phone walking through the woods back home after school. She is crying too because she just learned that she is being made fun of whenever she is not on the bus. She is holding her dog Moxie on the back step of the patio while the tears run down her cheeks and she wonders what things are wrong about her. In the living room is 21-year-old me, holding Moxie for the last time before leaving for Europe, begging her to live until she returned but knowing that wouldn’t happen.
As I transition into my new age, I will hold all of these Annas within me. I don’t think a birthday requires a shedding of the people we were but an appreciation and giving of compassion for the parts of us that brought us here. I used to hate having a birthday sandwiched between two major holidays. I was either battling a cold, or no one was around, or in the mood to add another event to their agenda. Now, I am grateful that the year and I get to transition together. I find myself lost in reflection, slowness, and joy. I hope that my (and our) next year of life is filled with warmth and love. I love myself and I love you.
This video of Bjork looking inside her TV. “It’s like a tiny city” I love her!
These incredible fuzzy hats hand made in Brooklyn that I’ve had to resist buying with all my will: https://tiolee.com/
Flute Thing by The Blues Project AKA one of the best songs to swing your hips around to in your apartment:
Loved your writing. I feel the same being at my 39. I wish I had more pic from my childhood.
Miss you and hope to see you soon.
Elham
OMG...i am in tears. I know Holly feels the same way every year. Have enjoyed watching all the Annas I have gotten to know.