It is a rainy Friday morning. I'm not temping today so I'm in no rush. Sitting in my new attic room on my mattress on the floor, I stare out the opened window. Staying still, lost in thought, my eyes suddenly focus on a very large bird perched in the tree across the street. Against the gray sky the tree's spidery branches look like bronchi. The bird which I believe to be a hawk, is a dark oval in silhouette. Once I've spotted it I wonder how I didn't see it immediately, but predators know how to go unnoticed.What does today means for me? Today is not just turning a page or starting a new chapter, but arguably it is a whole new book. I'm thinking about the past ten years. I've earned two degrees and started my independent adult life. I have begun a publishing career and had so much amazing international travel. Varanasi, Zanzibar, Marrakesh, Tokyo – these are no longer purely names to me, but places, experiences. I spent seven years living in London and now here I am back in my own country, and single again. In some ways it feels as though I am single for the first time. I refuse to stumble merrily into yet another relationship as I have always done. My eyes are open. This time is for me.
Down on Iowa Avenue, I hear cars drive past, tires on wet ground. All I see is the rain, the bird in the tree and beyond that, the brick high school.There are some who become agitated and distressed when they turn a year older. I've always thought the source of their unhappiness is not the new number, but a feeling that they aren't where they want to be in their lives.
"By now I should have had that promotion," they might think to themselves. "I should be working for a better company, in a different industry. I should own my own place by now. I should be married. I should have children." I don't mind admitting that when I was younger, I assumed I would be pregnant with my first child right about now. My mom was 29 when she had me.
The bird fluffs its feathers and shifts its weight before settling again into an oval.
Time in this world of ours goes so fast. I try and make a concerted effort to slow it down. As the hippies said, "Be here now." It's hard but I'm trying because the alternative is terrible to me. I don't want to be a spectator in my own life. I don't want to wake up one day and wonder where the years have gone. They're here. Now. Open your eyes.You can only plan so much. Due to a series of unexpected circumstances I have found myself back in the States, living in Washington, DC during the early months of our first African-American President's first term in office. After a difficult adjustment and an even more difficult break-up, I've found actually I like this city. I like the potluck parties in old row houses, dive bar happy hours, farmers markets, urban parks, drum circles and neighborhood cafes. And I am writing a novel.
To pay the bills, I continue to temp part-time doing menial administrative work for random companies. Over the summer a woman at a corporate real estate agents I was at for a few days asked in earnest, "Do you love temping?"
"Well the total lack of financial stability is fun," I wanted to tell her. "It's pretty cool being registered with eight agencies and still having weeks with no work. I adore always being the new girl, the low wages with no benefits are a hoot and seriously, who doesn't love filing?"
Instead I simply mentioned my novel. I am telling you that I am doing this for my characters. I do this work purely to allow myself the head-space to create and hone that fictional world.
Today is the start of something new. Goodbye old insecurities, outdated fears, anxieties, inexperience and putting up with nonsense for fear people might think I'm a bitch. Hello cool maturity, joy, wisdom and pure unbridled confidence. I am ready.
Finally the rain stops. The bird spreads its huge wings and flies away. Today is my 30th birthday.
