birthdays and rainy days

It’s my 23rd birthday and Hurricane Sandy is my birthday companion. With all her wind, rain, and glory. But I’m not complaining. I like the steady sound of rain, and the autumn leaves twirling, and the branches squealing. I like it all. I wish all my birthdays could be welcomed with dreary, gray skies juxtaposed by bold, vibrant colors of the foliage. Sunny days are well and good, but there’s something mysterious and romantic about the fog and the pitter-patter and the gusty presence of a storm. I’m happy my birthday falls in Sandy’s path this year. Even though it’s a Monday.

retrospect.

Sometimes you don't realize you love something until you don't have it anymore.

Like losing sleep to write a paper in the library because you procrastinated and it's due the next day. Or knowing that every Tuesday you will eat a buffalo chicken wrap in The Commons on campus. Or having to sacrifice a few hours a week to cram into a practice room with 4 other altos and sing parts. Or being so tired, yet so wired, at 2 am that you grab a girlfriend and go to Wendy's for caffeine and french fries. Or getting up early to run the beautiful Noland Trail with a marathon runner who puts you to shame, but gives you the best conversation. Or being "required" to read Jane Austen novels and write a research paper on them. Or being at a football game when it starts pouring down rain, but you stay anyway and get a cold. Or spending a 50 minute class learning more than anyone would ever want to know about comma placement (well, almost anyone). Sometimes things become a routine, a habit, a convenience, an obligation. And you don't see how priveleged you are until you have moved on and see it in retrospect.

Retrospect is a funny thing because you'd like to believe that you live in the moment and take nothing for granted. But the truth is, even when you try, you can't absorb everything as it's happening. Especially the mundane, even irritating things, that you never thought were glorious or special in the first place -- just part of your daily life.

And then one day they're not.

And it's the saddest thing because you could have loved them and cherished them so much more.

As I turn 23, I have a lot of retrospect. 22 gave me so much that I know I'll never have again. It provided me with a youth that excused my stubborness and impulsiveness. It was my explanation for foolishness and liveliness. It placed me in a world with pretty brick buildings and pretty people. It afforded a routine that I was quite lucky to live, even if I complained or ached for bigger things. 22 let me spend my days learning and spend my nights living...even if those nights meant watching Shirley Temple movies for film class, or making playlists while wrapped in my quilt, or going to my friend's apartment to eat ramen and watch shows I don't even care about. I mean...that's boring stuff....but beautiful stuff. I know I'm a year older, but I don't want to lose that youth.

Now? I'm sitting in an office cubicle while CNU classes are canceled and campus is closed. I'm doing the adult thing -- spending my birthday working. My friends were sent home. To stay warm and dry and be with the people they love. I hope they aren't taking it for granted.

On a happier note, I am glad for a rainy birthday. I always hope for a rainy birthday. I am happy to be living, but more than that, to feel alive. And I know next year, I'll love this a lot more...with the help of a little bit of retrospect.