I’m a little late in posting this after my actual birthday, January 21st. But hey, here’s a celebratory post nonetheless. I just turned 28 years old and somehow feel older AND younger at the same time.
Younger, like born again in the transplant sense. A new city, new coast, new chance to start over and re-discover life’s simplest pleasures like seagulls, the Pacific Ocean, accents, baked sourdough bread, olive trees, fine wine.
Older, like my 21-year-old body. That used to be able to run eight miles or stay up until 2:30 AM partying the night away or eating almost anything.
All in all, the big day was actually nothing out of the ordinary. I awoke to a boatload of Facebook wishes, an early alarm for coffee, texts from parents, friends and old best friend from college (congrats, Caleb, you were the second person to text me).
I got to eBay early (which in the tech world meant 8:45 AM) and double-fisted two strong espressos with two bosses al fresco before 10:00 AM. Later, I posted 20-something stickies all over my desk on my upcoming plans for that year.
To end the night, Rachel and her bf Alejandro came up from Palo Alto to meet me for a drink at the Tipsy Pig. I vividly remember our ‘gelato al fresco’ dessert being just sub-par and wolfed down in three bites, but the outdoor string-lighted patio turning my souring impression around by night’s end. Two hours later, three licked spoons and 20-something stories from us three 20-somethings, we all decided to call it a night.
Funny enough, I was home in 25 and asleep in 45. If this is what it’s like to get older, guess I better start eating my carrots, taking care of myself and sleeping like a baby.
