Adventures in… ch.57

October 12, 2011 § Leave a comment

Adventures In…


A week from today and I will be 28 years of age. Not a major milestone, although for someone who spent a good portion of her childhood, teens, and early adulthood wishing life would end it is more than just another year to celebrate. Long gone are those years that I thought another birthday only meant another year to loathe. I have come to my senses, and on this last Wednesday of my 27th year, raise my glass of chilled Moscato to another year of the exhilaratingly ordinary life I lead.

This year could write like a cleverly boring, annual Christmas letter. I started wearing shoulder pads, developed a dependence on the AM 1230 station (singers and standards), and the closest relationship I had was with a bottle of Moscato (needless to say we hit a “rough patch” around February 14th). But it was in those moments – the lonely Valentine’s Day evening belting out Celine’s “All By Myself” until the wine was gone, the quiet Saturday mornings with my cat on my lap and a warm cup of coffee and a crossword puzzle in front of me, the short stint I had with being fit and jogging the river trail – that I felt the most alive.

Prior to my 25th year life revolved around the ostentatious things I chose to do – move to Chicago, become a massage therapist, marry a musician in Vegas…nothing I regret (not even the tattoos or fish net stockings). I relocated to a different apartment every year, and I continually changed the color of my hair. Perhaps I based my existence off of the illusion that life was only grand when grand things were occurring. Maybe I was searching for significance and assuming that the mundane was the cause of my misery.

Sure, my companions for tonight are but a pan of lasagna and half a bottle of Moscato, but this mundane is far from miserable. It turns out that when one wises up (or just grows older?) the little things take on new significance. The quiet house is a far cry from living with a musician, but that doesn’t mean the excitement is over. Last week I considered the very real option of living on a farm; two days later I was searching for reasonably priced high rise apartments in Chicago. And in the middle of those two extremes was a lot of pondering, contemplating, wondering, and AM 1230. In the two days between those two life decisions arose a tangible awareness of who I am, where I am, and the realization that the small moments in life are arguably the greatest.

In my 27th year the biggest lesson was patience, the understanding that grand things were made incomparable after stewing for a bit. I forged through a job I felt unqualified for only to come out with a whole new skill set under my belt. I learned that good hair days come about not by meticulous washing and routine haircuts but by running my hands through it and falling asleep with it wet. As a 27 year old I learned to sit back and enjoy life instead of constantly trying to manipulate it.

As the big 2-8 nears I am hoping that this new-found relaxed approach continues to do me well. But if not, there is always Moscato.


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