Time is so short
and I’m sure
There must be something
When I turned 10, I was visiting Israel for the first time since I moved there, left there.... My grandmother bought me a yellow shirt and skirt set. The skirt was ruffled and the outfit had little black polka dots. I thought it was the best thing ever, and I remember thinking, even then, what an amazing thing she did, a woman over 70, going into a neighborhood boutique, buying this outfit for her youngest granddaughter. It must have been expensive, but I was 10. How did I know about things like that? I still think of her often. Thinking of that summer and seeing her face clearly hurts like hell. I can't believe how much I miss her. Why didn't I tell her I loved her more?
When I turned 20, I was psychotic. I broke up with my boyfriend of more than a year -- an eternity when I was 20 -- and I was on Paxil and smoking cloves -- and basically I wasn't me. I sorted myself out pretty quickly after that. I came to the realization that I wasn't a baby anymore. How destructive I could be. My footprint on life, on others, was firmly planted, and no matter how I tried to un-do things, they couldn't be undone.
I'm turning 30 in just over a week from now. Who knows what the day will entail, what I will be feeling, who I will be missing or pissing off... I'm not really excited about turning 30. Part of me doesn't want to be an adult, ever! But a lot of me wants to change, to fit into my skin. To like people again and not be so afraid of them. To like cleaning floors. To be a mother. To be a really great wife. To go to a Coldplay concert. Life doesn't end at 30, I know. Life continues.