At 8:37pm tonight, I turned 29 years old. I was on a walk with the dog, having just gotten back from dinner with said sister, her husband, and her two sons. I wandered up the street, nursing an Old Foghorn barleywine and missing my husband. We walked up the street a ways, then turned into the conservation area near us, which I refer to as "the field" in my head. I pulled the pup up a small rise, then plopped down to drink my beer and gape at the field and the stars for awhile.
At first, I just felt bad for myself. "I'm 29," I thought, "and it's my birthday. But my husband is far away. I miss him." But eventually, the night got to me and I came around. "It's a lovely night, I have a lovely dog, and I'm going to spend the weekend at the lake house with my parents, my nephews, and two lovely dogs. How much have I really to complain about?"
So that's the final word. :) Happy birthday to me.