In one version of turning thirty, you have donuts delivered for breakfast. You watch Lil Nas X videos and a cover of Love Story, but make it gay. It’s the three of you, sitting around the living room, subsisting on caffeine and leftover pizza for lunch while Netflix loads.
In one version of turning thirty, you walk along the Des Moines River on a quiet wooded trail. You invent ghost stories together and talk about holiday logistics. You find the word demon scratched on a log blocking the trail next to a red-faced drawing. An owl, you decide later, when you see the Owl Trail sign again.
In one version of turning thirty, you pop champagne while baking a funfetti cake You listen to music that lines up with a story, and the three of you workshop around the kitchen table, draining the champagne. The dinner when you turn thirty is fancy, a main, three sides, a good bottle of wine. The crystal glasses, the napkins folded into fans, the cat persistently trying to interrupt preparations. The dinner is delicious.
In one version of thirty, you inaugurate the fire pit you built in the backyard. It lights easily, burns bright, warm enough with sippy cups of good wine in hand. You all smell like smoke when you come inside.
It’s good, this version of turning thirty. I’m nine months away but if yesterday was my version, it would be a good one. A perfect one, really. If thirty is close friends and good food and sipping champagne while workshopping novels we are writing, yes, yes yes. If thirty is new plans and big changes and life changing for the better, one year at a time, yes, yes, yes. Experience knows it’s true, every year we know ourselves a little better and life is a little better when you know yourself.
With Love,
Natalie