Nostalgia Will Be The Death Of Me

After a weekend full of beautiful Birthday partying, I went back to mom's to walk our dog while she's away. The walk was cold, but smelt the way winter should smell. I fed little Clay, snuggled him, and then made the mistake of peeking into one of the albums on the living room bookshelf. And that's where I spent the next 40 minutes. 

I've always been a cheesy, sentimental, nostalgic sucker, and Christmas through my Birthday seems to be the worst. Christmas childhood memories are my very favorite, and then it's all the emotion that comes with ringing in a new year, and then my Birthday comes, another marker of a new (personal) year, realizing the last one is actually over (already?!), and it's all a little overwhelming. Plus it's winter, so naturally everything is a little sadder!

I have never been one to shy away from my Birthday. I firmly believe we all deserve a day to be celebrated, and I admittedly enjoy the 24 hours of Facebook attention. I have never worried about getting older, the future hasn't scared me since I was in high school. I am extremely happy, thankful where I am in my life, how far I've come, and who's come with me. But once I start flipping through baby pictures (and can't bring myself to stop flipping), a nervousness does sink in. Nervous to get further away from these perfect little moments. 

My parents made utterly beautiful children. 

I don't say that in a strictly self-absorbed way. They had definitely blessed us with extremely decent genes, but in every picture, on every page, throughout all those binders, are the happiest little faces. Just happy and so in love. We were blessed with a very healthy, happy childhood. And that makes me cry for some reason!

It might have something to do with the fact that it all ended in divorce. And also the hormones. (It's always going to be the hormones, isn't it?). We were just so god damn cute. And if I get this emotional over baby pictures, I can't imagine what it does to parents. I mean, that first blondey crooked-smile baby is turning 27!? 

I get excited, knowing all that is bound to happen in this new 'I am 27' year. Twenty-seven is a sexy sounding number. I have a feeling that it's going to be, actually, wonderful. 

But life isn't perfect. Not as perfect as it felt, I'm sure, when I was turning 2 and about to get a brand new brother. Or when I was turning 5, and my favorite little sister was finally at my Birthday party. They were precious moments, because we were precious, captured in invaluable snap shots. And when I look at them now, I can't help but hate how far away they seem. How far away that 'Who cares! We're young and we're perfect' feeling is. Children are definitely oblivious to the 'real world' (if they're lucky), but that's part of what makes us beautiful. 

We are still a respectably handsome family, don't get me wrong! And we are all growing, succeeding, relatively happy, and lucky in love, decent human beings. So I have no fear of how much time we have left, or what we're going to do with it...but of how much time has passed. You don't realize it, at least I don't, at least not in an obvious way, the time passing. You don't realize the time passing and the responsibilities mounting, the friends coming and going, the heart breaking and loving, because it just happens. But then you open the pages that your Nana started filling with these gorgeous, happy, care-free faces 28 years ago, and suddenly it's so easy to spend 40 minutes sitting on the floor covering your sweater sleeves in tears. And snot! 

My 1st Birthday party - Mom wore a bow tie, I wore the cake

An angel putting up the angel ;)

My mom was a model you know

He's always loved having a big sister!

A couple of suckers (and Nana)

My very favorite sister

Told'ja we were good looking...