For my birthday this year, I spent two weeks traveling with my parents on their first trip to Central America, went on a site visit to repair a septic system for a US-built former radio tower in the jungle, tagged along with a visiting friend to a phenomenal tropical-design home in the mountains, got repeatedly lost in the confounding elevators of the building formerly known as Trump Ocean Club, checked in with the Panama chapter of the #PrattMafia, did a self-directed windshield tour of the Areas Revertidas, bumped into a friend I had not seen in six years while hiking up a trail alone, touched up the paint on the boat, received (affordable) medical care for a parasite that had taken up residence in my foot, sent out my first Spanish-language CV, spent a day on Barro Colorado Island, jammed to Panamanian band playing Nirvana covers, went on a dinghy ride with the cat and heard kids calling out his name from the pueblo, got Rolfed, hung around the Smithsonian cafeteria eating soup like a spy scientist (a spyientist), dropped and did pushups any time I felt insecure, and had a deep conversation about the biblical precedent for ecological conservation at a private home in the neighborhood of Diablo. My husband went and did his own damn thing during this time (one month) which was the best birthday gift of all – the time and space I needed to do all this, which I did not know how badly I needed to do, but man did I ever.
I have never been married before, and I am fully grown. Sometimes I think I am already too set in my ways to successfully integrate my life with this whole entire other person’s life. But then our friends and family (in my opinion the whole point of a wedding at all is to send out the call to everyone that you need their help with this thing going forward, in perpetuity) are generous enough to remind us that what we are doing (self-exile in a plastic bottle) is extreme. So relax already.
It’s wonderful to feel the wheel turn one more click. A happy birthday!
