If there were an award for best birthday ever, I think lucky number 23 would claim the prize for sure. It was my 23rd birthday last weekend and I’m sure I’ve never had more fun. The whole weekend was filled with friends, family, and phantasmagoria and I couldn’t be more thrilled with everything.
We spent the night at a Bed and Breakfast near my mom’s house and spent some excellent time with my mom, step-dad, and grandparents. It’s pretty freaking fantastic to be 23, I think. I’m still young so I can still get away with things like tackling my husband when he’s not looking but I’m old enough to appreciate my family without angsting about all the things I dislike about them.
Essentially, I’m finally old enough to realize that, while my family’s not perfect, they’re still some of my very favorite people and it’s OK to resemble them. When I was a teenager I would have cut you if you told me I reminded you of my mother (Wes made this mistake a few times.) After therapy, however, I learned that one of the most excellent priveleges we are given is the opportunity to learn from our parents and adopt for ourselves the things that work and discard the things that don’t.
It was when I stopped worrying about whether or not I was like my family that I experienced the freedom to be at peace with who I am.
Blah blah, no more maudlin confessions of never-ending family love, I promise.
The whole point of that long intro was to pave the way for this little gem from the weekend: Wes and I were eating breakfast with everyone and my grandmother was telling everyone about her experience with getting her lung removed. My grandfather was telling us that he could never find her in her room. She was supposed to be recuperating but she’d always be out and about, mingling with everyone she could find.
When asked why, she replied that she couldn’t die if she wasn’t in her room. She avoided her room like the plague because she believed that they wouldn’t be able to drape her with the white sheet if she wasn’t lying in her bed.
Wes started considerably when he heard this, and exclaimed that in this respect the apple hardly fell from the tree at all. I am guilty of similar flights of illogical fancy and he has the pleasure of being privy to my bouts of whimsy with alarming regularity.
That being said, I reveled in my family this weekend and was very glad to know that perhaps my quirky nature is hereditary and will be passed along to my kids. I have the feeling that will be quite fun indeed.