19 April 2012

41

That's what birthdays were. Days when you found out where you stood. Who was on your side and who wasn't. Nothing to do with how old you were.” ~ Rupert Thomson, The Five Gates of Hell

One week ago, I quietly slipped into my forty-first year of life.

There was no big party. No big presents. No candles. There wasn't even a cake.

I remember prior birthdays -- last year, two years ago, five years ago, ten years ago... and all I can take away from those days is how deeply unhappy I was. I was always yearning for something, searching for some deeper meaning to my life, and hoping to grasp onto some semblance of happiness.

I realize that this year, for the first year in God only knows how long, I was happy on my birthday.

After forty-one years, I want what I have, and I have what I want: love, strong family bonds, true friends, and a newly-found love for myself.

I am not quite where I want to be, but I am getting closer.

God willing, I will get there.