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READS
RINGS
I am pushing 30.
Or, as I prefer to delude myself, will turn 25 for the sixth time before I know it. I told someone on the phone yesterday that I will soon turn 29 and I immediately stuck out my tongue, completely involntarily, as if to spit the nasty age out of my mouth. I've heard people say that their 30's are awesome and that age is a state of mind and to that I say a hearty 'blow me.' Like 30 didn't loom over you like the blackest of black clouds at one time.
Just before I turned 25 (the first time), my mentor died and my mother told me one of the few intelligent things she ever has. She said this is the age when you really start losing people who mean a lot. Apparently it is also the beginning of the end of the string-free death.
The no-strings deaths occur when you are little and are followed by string-free funerals. A great-grandparent or grandparent dies and you go to the funeral because you're old enough to miss them, to get the concept of 'death.' And because your parents make you. But as you get older, you get asked to be a pall bearer. You get asked to say something at the service. And before you know it, you are expected to be in the receiving line, on the front row, and to help sort through the deceased's belongings and write the obituary. I suppose it is inevitable that I will be choosing a casket for someone in the not-so-distant future.
So long to my 20's and string-free funerals.
Rest in peace, Grandma Almeda.
design by fergie
Bits of fire in the sky push me east back home. I used to live in flames
but it's hard on the wings. Choke me. Smoke me. Scare me back. You try
but you just can't. I peel the layers in my spare time, and you're easy
to see through. I can fly, I've discovered on my own. I may be the lesser
butterfly but my wings are just as strong. Who are you to tell me to find
a place to land? I may be the lesser butterfly but baby watch me glide.
