Ageing

For my birthday this year I was in Crete and away from my family ("family" here meaning my mum and siblings). I had mixed feelings on my birthday. On one hand, there's always that magical sense of the day being a celebration of yourself - people give you gifts they think you'll like because they love you (or were invited to your party and feel awkward showing up empty-handed). They write messages in cards that express how special you are to them. They generally do their best to make sure you're happy on that day.

On the other hand, it's... Well...

I wrote a short something on my birthday that describes my mixed feelings. It was supposed to be a Facebook status but I didn't really want people on Facebook to figure out it was my birthday or for my family to start commenting hearts on my status. So I held on to it for my blog, and now that I've remembered I do in fact have a blog and should update it, here it is.

22 is not a milestone age, but when I was 16 a friend of mine died suddenly, just before his 18th birthday. His death got me thinking: would I reach 18? What about 21? Then I started seeing death in other places: one cousin at 16, my nan, another cousin at 13, an aunt. Young or old, death didn't wait for anyone to be ready - it just took people.

22 is not a milestone age, but I'm happy with what it's given me: long years of laughter, three brilliant brothers, a wonderful girlfriend. And I'm looking forward to, at 22, working a job I (surprisingly) love as well as starting a masters degree and being surrounded by cats.

22 is not a milestone age, but I'm glad to have reached it.