My father apparently has a story that he doesn’t tell that often.
As in, my mother heard it for -the first time- last year.
Newfoundland gets the northern lights, but not with frequency (or so I’m told anyway). The night I was born he went outside and happened to look up.
I was born under a rare northern lights show.
It must not have impressed him that much. It took him 29 years to actually tell anyone.
I’ve decided that my 30s are going to the decade I do what I want. I don’t mean in the selfish, I’m going to turn into a brat sense. But if I want to buy a short sweater with 3 inches of lace on the bottom I’m going to do it (I did it this morning). If I want kona coffee, I’m getting kona. If I want to lose weight I’m going to. If I feel like blowing off a work out and watch Pure History, more power to me.
I am not who I am at 20. Some parts of me, I knew I would be there. Some parts would have blown my mind then (what do you mean, I’m going to make the decision to switch to modesty and cover my hair in public? Excuse me?), and some parts I just wouldn’t have ever seen coming. For that matter, I’m not who I was six months ago. I’m learning to be okay with that, and with okay with who I am. More importantly, I’m learning to be okay with who I was.
Hopefully, world, I’ll get to see you for another 30 years.