29
I know it’s cliché to remark on things like the weather or the speed of time, but seriously, where did July go? I’ve been 29 for 29 days and so far, so good. Old school readers may remember a theory I posited a few years ago on how my even years are always better than my odd. (For example, the year I was 20 was fantastic but 21 was awful. 24 was terrific, 17 sucked.) I was looking forward to putting 25 to rest, and was hoping that 26 would put light and easiness back into my life. In many ways it did – I finally landed a full-time job and was able to quit waitressing and I began to feel more at home in Atlanta. But in the end, over these last few years in my late 20s, I finally learned a universal truth about life – it doesn’t care how old you are. Life is going to throw heartache and happiness and joy and sorrow and giddiness and boredom at you no matter what your age. I was doing myself a disservice, cataloging my ages based on what happened in that calendar year. Yes, some periods in my life have been infinitely harder than others. I’ve been decimated by heartbreak, buoyed by kindness and loved so much that it’s embarrassing and all of those things have happened, and will continue to happen, no matter how old I am.
I have now lived in Atlanta almost as long as I lived in Columbus, Ohio. I’m now old enough that I have to stop and think hard about when things happened or how old I was. Did I move in 2002 or 2003? Was I 25? Okay, what is 2002 minus 1976…? Was I really only 24 when I went to Spain? I’m finally old enough that when I think about Miami it’s with a kind smile, instead of that heady rush of longing and nostalgia. Is it because my life here fills me in the way that it should that I no longer dream of my days in Oxford? Or perhaps it is another aspect of aging: you feel too separate from the younger version of yourself to miss her much.
It doesn’t hurt that my birthday this year was so enormously wonderful that it makes it hard to be wistful about the past and what I may be leaving behind as I approach 30. There were so many parties and meals out that my friend Catherine’s husband said, “Wait – when is Hannah’s birthday exactly?” (I took the concept of the Birthday Month literally.)
I don’t dread 30. Granted, it’s weird to think that women I’ve known since they were teenagers are about to enter an entirely new decade, but I still don’t dread it. So much, so fantastically much, happened to me as a girl in her early 20s and as 20-something woman. So fantastically much has happened just in the past two years that I would be a fool to dread what lies ahead.
They say that the older you get, the more you figure out who you are and you become more comfortable in your own skin. I don’t know who they are (does anyone?) but as well all know, they’re right.
Ownership
When you’re preparing for a large life change – a home purchase, the birth of your first child, marriage – the people who blazed the trail before you offer a lot of advice, most of it boiling down to “Oh, it’s a lot of work – you just wait.” And as the novice, the one who has yet to venture into this unchartered life territory, you think “Well, maybe it’s a lot of work for YOU, but I have true love/maternal instincts/a good handyman on my side.” You’re positive that for you it will be different. It won’t be as bad as they claim.
Hahahahaha!
In the months leading up to the purchase of my first house, I got those little advice nuggets a lot. “It’s always something with houses!” or “You know if something goes wrong, there’s no landlord to call….” And I said, “Yes, yes. Yes, I know this.” Because, well, I did know it. But I didn’t know it like they knew it – oh, those on the other side. I thought – “Well, I’m being smart about this. Well informed. Besides, I’m not completely clueless – I _can_ use a plunger!” I rode a wave of First Escrow Love and stayed buoyed by the idea of my badass self, the Single Female 20something Homeowner, all the way through closing and painting parties and housewarming get-togethers. I extravagantly blew my budget on things like lawnmowers and cordless drills – prepping my home for a do-it-herself queendom.
But then hurricanes and tropical storms rushed through Atlanta, Cindy and Dennis practically holding hands they blew though so close together, and my crawl space flooded and water dripped down into my attic and my pilot light went and suddenly I realized – I have no hot water and I’m only getting it back if I take care of it. And then there’s that “charming” original 1950s bathroom that a few months, and mortgage payments, in isn’t so charming anymore. And the large tree in the backyard – the one you are certain has been home to many children climbing its branches and lovers kissing under its umbrella branches – is more menace than friend, with its heavy, generations-old limbs hanging heavily over your roof. What renter has to worry about a tree crashing through her roof? Not this former renter, that is for certain.
Luckily (oh so luckily) I am blessed in the company I keep, and seem to have picked up my very own personal handyman somewhere along the way. This friend who drives down from his outside-the-perimeter berg to crawl into my scary attic to look for leaks and who listens to me complain and kvetch that maybe I made a mistake and WHY won’t it STOP RAINING, when he was the agent who signed his name right next to mine hundreds on times on all the scary closing paperwork. (I don’t have a first born, but I’m fairly certain I owe him to someone anyway.) So at least I’m not going this totally alone, as long as I have him out there to save me, and since I’m not the first person to ever do anything, I know quite a few Single Female 20something Homeowners who are there to lean on, ask questions of and commiserate with.
So thanks to trailblazers and to everyone who hasn’t said “I told you so.” I have a leaky kitchen sink to go fix.
Another little test
Another little test to see if I can figure out how to upload an image. Old School Tego:
Lookee here
Well, would you look at this – I finally joined 2003. So much has happened since I last updated. . . I closed on my house and moved in; I started dating someone and then we sort of decided to take a step back, yet nothing has changed; I ran a half marathon; I went camping and to Savannah and turned 29.
Special thanks to Anna Beth for her assistance and beautiful design. It suits me, don’t you think?
There’s much to talk about and there’s much to do, so strap in.
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Compassion
