This cusp that I approach tonight receives more hype from family and friends than from me. When I signed up for Red Room, I laughed as I read the bios of the directors, as they are all 29. I really was 29! I still am, for about another hour and a half.
Thinking back 10 years ago, I can remember my 20th birthday. My friend Jen came to visit me at college, and I went out with some girlfriends. We all wore dresses. Flowered dresses were popular and unintentionally, we all matched.
It is odd what you remember--the dresses for instance. You think I would comment on the guy I kissed that night (whom I still see about twice a year at mutual friends' gatherings) or gifts received.
Tonight, I think about what I thought in that pretty flowered dress. I had a vision for the 30 year version of myself and I don't know if this is it.
I didn't think I'd be a stay at home mom. I thought I would walker slower than I did and still do, question myself less, and pick at myself less. I thought I would have stopped biting my nails by now or picking at my toes and would get manicures so I had the "I'm together look" and my stubby fingers would appear long and I would flip through papers and push my hair back oh so delicately with my pretty nails. I thought I would have a hairstyle that was always fixed and not my standard long hair that I hurriedly pile on top my head. I thought I would belong to a gym. Not all of my visions were so shallow or vain. I imagined a nice family and laughing with my kids and not being around crazy people. I imagined being happy. I wondered what it would be like to be a bride, go through labor, and go to a job where I didn't clean floors or tables.
Doubts linger and I imagined them gone. Maybe at 40, huh?
So on the eve and with about an hour left in my 20s, I attempt a sentimental view of tomorrow. I can't really muster too much emotion, but I do wonder when I will stop wondering, doubting, and imagining. Maybe never.