Today my little sister turns 28. I remember 28. I made a vow that day that I would never work on my birthday again. I get way too emotional and sad when I think about the coil of my mortal life unraveling.
On my 28th, I was getting a divorce and my ex was suing me for alimony. I was bitter, lost and unhappy. For my actual birthday a friend, my Dean Moriarty, took me to a dive bar where she hooked up with a drugged out limo driver living in the dim hotel side of the Brass Elephant in Monrovia. The most memorable moment up to midnight was taking this drugged out limo driver to another bar and on the way, the limo driver telling me that if things didn't work out with him and my friend, he might be able to date me.
I did end that night well, I went over to a man that I liked and he kissed me good night. This man had also called me at midnight, at the beginning of my 28th, to be sure that he was the first to wish me a happy birthday.
In a few months I'll be 36 years old, closer to 40 than 30 and 16 years from 20. These are scary thoughts. Mentally I don't feel much older than 25. Physically, maybe due to my fat, I still get carded most places. For this year's birthday we're going to be low key. Go out to dinner someplace nice, maybe go up to Santa Barbara for a long weekend. I'm not sure. Most of my current life I would never want to give up. I'm stable, my husband is a rock and I'm so lucky to have him, but maybe it's the fact that my life is so structured that there are times when I would like to go back, to re experience some moments that were raw. I'm sure if my wish came true, I would regret the decision immediately.