another year of me

I considered my birthday a hellish day to be gotten through for most of my childhood, full of difficult family dynamics like sibling jealousy and parental strife.  Attention uncomfortably focused on me, receiving presents I knew sometimes my parents couldn’t really afford.  At least they on some level wanted me to believe that.  Birthdays were hard.  Until I met M., and we fell in love.

***

My 16th birthday was spent tramping the woods in the rain.  We played hooky from school (a frequent occurrence, thankfully supported by both sets of parents) and M. came over early in the morning.  I was still in bed, and she gave me a pile of silly presents wrapped in gold foil paper.  

We set off for the woods once I roused myself.  It was only drizzling when we left the house, and we didn’t pay any attention to the weather.  

As we walked the rain picked up, falling first on the new wet-silk leaves, then falling through to our heads in thick fat drops.  We just kept walking.  We passed an enormous porcupine, quills at crazy angles.  We could have touched it if we dared, but we knew better.  We visited the stream at the bottom of the hill, rushing through the hemlocks, and passed by the beaver dam.  When I was younger you could walk across it, but it had fallen into disrepair by that point and wasn’t safe.

I don’t remember what we talked about.  I remember how it felt to get slowly soaked to the skin in the gentle, persistent rain, and not care at all.  I remember being surrounded by the emerald green of the woods, so fresh and new and damp in May.  And I remember feeling at peace, comfortable and happy in M.’s presence.

We got back to my house eventually, and had to change out of our wet clothes on the porch because my mom didn’t want us dripping in the house.  We were back to reality — family drama, setting the table for dinner, my mom’s insecurity about whether the food I asked for was right or not — but the peace had settled into my soul, and I was unfazed by everything else.  It was a lovely birthday.

***

My 16th birthday marked a turning point for me.  It was a moment of separation from my childhood self, and a taste of what being all grown up would be.  Being grown up has not been a disappointment.  I consider my birthday now to be a day where I recommit — I say hey world, here I am.  I’m glad to be alive.  Expect another year of me, coming right up.