27

(The wonders of a little free time at work...and hilighters.)

My birthday is on the twenty-seventh. Of June. I'll be twenty-seven on the twenty-seventh of June this year and, though I feel that this is some sort of doom's day event, I'm feeling pretty good about being a year older. Well, pretty good about my life. Not necessarily being older.

It may sound awful to some of you happy shiny people out there, but every year that goes by I find that I'm comparing myself to my mother.

When she was 16 she had run away from home, dropped out of school, gotten married and had my sister.

I was painting in my room, rocking out to The Beatles, The Doors, The Wallflowers, Metallica and thinking about my future.

At 25 she'd been divorced, remarried to my father for eight years, and welcomed me into the world...on June 27th, 1982.

I was finished with college, married about 4 years, adopting every stray animal that crossed my path, painting, rocking out to The Beatles, The Doors, The Avett Brothers, Andrew Bird and thinking about my future.

I don't know what it is exactly that makes me want to compare my life to hers, or why I feel good about my life in contrast to hers. Don't get me wrong, my Mom has made some seriously detrimental decisions, but she also rocks. She's 4 foot 11.5 inches and all Trouble. Take notice of the capitalization, or else.

She's been through a lot. Married for almost a decade to a raging alcoholic. Put up with an abusive boyfriend for the next thirteen years. Raised two daughters. And then went back to school when I was nine, and got her nursing degree.

Now she has a good job, a house that's paid for, and a very mild mannered fiance. So, I certainly don't wish she'd changed too much, or else my sister and I wouldn't have the luxury of griping about her now and again. ^_^

Still, I find myself unintentionally comparing our lives. I suppose it's because for years she was the only person I really felt like I knew. We moved so often. I'd make friends. We'd move. I'd make friends. We'd move. My Dad wasn't around. My Mom was all I had. So, I guess it makes sense.

Anyhow, my birthday is Saturday. Yay! ^_^

Oh, and Ben. We had a failure to communicate. Probably my fault, as most all miscommunications are. The newf shares a birthday with my best friend's little sister. MY birthday, and Helen Keller's, is June 27th. Sorry to revoke his "newf"ound birthday prestige.