On my tenth birthday, I decided that I wanted to die before the age of forty. Yeah I was a strange little girl, I drew a tomb with my name on it and ravens flying over it. My mother was not amused when she found the drawing. At that time, forty seemed so far away, so unimaginable. Everywhere I looked around, there were unhappy 40 years old people. Adults seemed so unhappy. I felt unhappy enough as a ten years old, why would I want another 30 years stretch of unhappiness?
But what did a ten years old girl know anyway about being forty?Even those forty years olds don’t know anything about it, nobody knows. So it goes that I continue living those 30 years and finally arrived at the point today. Sometimes it feels like yesterday, but I celebrated my 30th birthday with a bunch of people and lots of stuff. Everyone got wasted at the end of the night.
This morning, my husband quietly entered the room with a humble-looking cake and three candles on it. Sidra gave me a fluffy pillow and blanket that he bought with my husband a few days ago. I guess he noticed that I get cold easily.
It was just the three of us, sleepy in the morning, murmuring happy birthday and then continue with the usual breakfast before getting ready for school and office. I was a thousand times happier this morning than ten years ago.
People say that life begins at forty. But forty is just a number of years that we had spent living, of course life has begun 40 years ago. Maybe people just need something to hold onto when things feel so unbearable. I’m glad that I survived those 30 years since my tenth birthday. Whatever that had happened since that time doesn’t matter anymore now. I’m just happy that I’m here.