10,585 Days of Life

29 years of life, completed today, at 11:30 AM, 29 years to the minute when my mother, after nine hours of natural labor, delivered me into the world. Seven years, more or less, since a different birth, when I was grudgingly ejected through the Fitzrandolph Gates at Princeton University, launched into the world with a certificate of competency, on June 3, 20003. And here now, I find myself marooned on the most gorgeous and geographically isolated string of islands on earth, celebrating this day simply and quietly.

Why will I remember this birthday? Certainly because blessings are abundant, life is beautiful, and I'm breathing. But also because I have seventy five little charges, my sixth graders and eighth graders, to whom birthdays are new and essential, and they delivered birthday love in their own unforgettable ways. With hugs, hi-fives, smiles. By hiding under desks and bursting out "Surprise!". Through soul-stirring cards with uninhibitedly honest words like "Don't go! I love you!". I even had a lunchtime party with ten eighth grade girls who made brownies and cookies and blasted "She Wolf". (Yes, that sounds creepy, but somehow it was okay.) This year I didn't have the ultimate beachside dance party that I had on my 25th birthday on the North Shore. Nor was I the lone wanderer on the edge of the world, as I was when I woke up in my 1994 Ford Falcon in rural Victoria, Australia on my 26th birthday. This year's birthday was loving, sober (a little too), and, ahem, old?

But it's oh so sweet. For the calls, the thoughts, the internet love, thank you. Looking forward to the next 10,000. . . .