I came across this quote by Sandra Cisneros on tumblr and I knew it would be perfect for my Birthday Blog.
“What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today. And you don’t feel eleven at all. You feel like you’re still ten. And you are — underneath the year that makes you eleven. Like some days you might say something stupid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you’re three, and that’s okay. That’s what I tell Mama when she’s sad and needs to cry. Maybe she’s feeling three. Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings inside a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one. That’s how being eleven years old is.”
Right now I’m the four year old who doesn’t want to leave her mommy. And I’m the eighteen year old who can’t wait for adventure. And I’m the twelve year old who feels self conscious and afraid of new things. And I’m the twenty-four year old who gorged on way too much sushi and feels spoiled by her amazing friends and fabulous family.
I’m getting old, you guys. I’m almost a quarter of a century. How weird is that?