It hasn’t really felt like one adventure after another, but I realize I’ve taken a lot of steps toward expanding that nest-like comfort zone of mine – not the least of which was moving to New York: an undertaking I sometimes forget is constantly challenging.
Then there was the first-time solo vacation, which turned out to be an opportunity I will always celebrate taking. Along with some less geographic, more personal firsts – which are no less important just because I don’t have any photos to show for them.
And now, as we (the royal we, that is) approach thirty – OH GOD, let us have a moment for that, and everything it means – ahem, as we approach thirty, I have decided to celebrate with another first.
I’ve just signed up for a yoga and kayaking weekend at my one and only favorite yoga camp, to be taken on the weekend of my birthday. I couldn’t be more excited. I am trying not to have any expectations – but I imagine the smooth sunrise lake and the quite sound of our paddles on the water, tamped down by fog, all huddled and enclosed. And I imagine being sore and exhausted at night, tumbling into the tiniest twin bed and looking out the window at the stars.
But even if it rains, and I tip over and fall into the mucky lake, and an angry sea monster attacks – I’m sure it will all still be wonderful. Birthdays can bring up a lot for me, as they do for anyone. And it’s true that I am afraid – What if I am lonely? What if that loneliness never really goes away? – but more importantly, I am excited by the possibilities.