Juxtaposition, or Birthdays

Coming of age makes for poignant memories. While I cannot remember all of my birthdays, some images I simply cannot erase from my mind's eye...

19 years old. Spending Victorian hours with a man who will not touch me. A man whose touch I will not allow. Only touch my soul. I plead. A car explodes on fire in the dead of night. We circle it three times in awe.

20 years old. The Pyrenees mountains. A French boy's car. Curving, careening around the turns past thickets of trees in the dark of night. Headed for adventure.

21 years old. On a pay phone in a halfway house at 8:32 AM. The exact time of my delivery. A "happy birthday" from my mother. I am nothing if not unconventional.

22 years old. Sitting outside a café with a married man. He compares me to a lingerie model. A funny but deliberate joke. Our hands touch. He drinks my passion tea and threatens undying devotion.

25 years old. Poolside with my girlfriends watching a fire dancer's flames lick the nighttime sky. We drank, smoked, talked, and marveled at our youth.

30th Birthday

26 years old. Stunned with joy when the man I loved proposed on bended knee. Asked my best friend to be my bridesmaid. That was the last time I saw her or spoke to her for years. Sadly, her love was ending while mine was just beginning.

30 years old. A monstrous age to inflict on a lady. How cruel to feel so young, yet to be labeled a "grown-up."

31st Birthday

31 years old. Sushi with a side of suicide. I ate it and swallowed some pills with my wine. God help me, I don't know how to survive this birthday.

34 years old. Seaside with my family by my side. She covers him with wet sand from head to hand. Their laughter rises with the waves and falls with the setting sun. Together, we stumble over seaweed, build castles with buried treasure, and chase the dolphins in the sea. I teach my little girl how to pee on the side of the road. It is liberating. 

34th Birthday