33 and...

33 years ago today, my parents saved the best for last.

My mother was only three years older than I am right now – in those days considered an old maid and crazy for popping out a kid – and my father was my age, when their last child was born. It’s bizarre juxtaposing their life experiences against mine, yet implicit is the crossroads it presents. Obviously the world was a much different place for a 30-something in 1977. But in many ways I believe I was conceived and raised to be different.

And that I am.

A life-changing occurrence like the birth of a brilliant child sets your life on a brand new course. There was no way for my parents to know or even be prepared for the journey. But somehow they managed to bend with the severe curves in the road, to scale the walls that popped up many times unannounced, and to travel through dark terrain guided by little more than the light of faith and hope.

I have no way of knowing what course my life will take; whether the journey will be long or abbreviated, how the adventures I choose will shape the contours of my journey. Faith and hope will serve as my trusted GPS.

For now, I’ll raise a fifth glass and celebrate my parents’ decision to have one more go of it.

It’s my birthday, and I feel…different.




Oh yes, I'm back, bitches.