27.

I turned twenty-seven last Tuesday.

Truth be told, I didn’t think I’d ever get here. Truth be told, a very small part of me still continues to hold on to the very soft fear, that I might not last till the end of my twenty-seventh year. There is something entirely bizarre with the thought of sitting on the other side of happiness, with much hope and courage, after years of wrestling through the fractured pieces, forgetting what the sun ever looked like. It is strange to be excited, in whatever excitement means, to know with some semblance of assurance that I am still here, and that for the first time in my life, I can truly say that I am thriving.

There has always been a lamenting that occurs on my birthday. Of the things that never came to be, or the promises that I chose to let go and let live in forgotten memory. With another birthday in an ongoing pandemic, and a growing uncertainty towards an eventual positive outcome, my twenty-seventh year found me instead, with a tenderhearted appreciation of the simple and quiet fact that I am becoming, more so than perhaps I have imagined myself to be. To be confident and say, that while I am still finding the newness of my own skin, I have perhaps stepped into the confidence of coming as I am, in and amongst my spaces. I am enough to just be.

My time in this city has been one of an innate reckoning. Of the past life that no longer is, and of hurt and resentment that I no longer wish to carry. Anger that is exhaustive, and not worth my time or peace. The skeletons I’ve grown to hide away in secret, that form the very worst pieces of me. The reality of the silver lining has never been the promise of hope, but the endurance of hope, that lives through the spaces that we never ourselves choose, but he ones that for better or worse, are because of us. That as the sunflower turns towards the sun, so have I quietly realized the joy of the spaces that continue to remind us that light still shines in winter.

I’ve come to rediscover my secret places once more. The places perhaps I’ve always had exist, but I have never truly lived within. Places I was once perhaps fearful to express, or engage, lest the cards fall and the house crumbles to disrepair. Perhaps the greatest joy and lesson I carry, has been the courage to allow a creative expression of emotion. I know that courage through growth and vulnerability will lead the way, and I thank God each and every day, for His great Grace, and the unseen plans that He makes wonderful in His timing. The courage enough to stay, when all else seems to want to wither away, is enough to endure. An eternity established within a moment and reconcilliation towards the master plan.

I have learnt that there is nothing more certain than the now and as it passes, may I look continually from the spaces that have grown me and shaped me to where I need to go. Who knows where the uncertainty may find us in the next six months, or what twenty-eight will feel like (if I do get there). I choose to be grateful still. For today. For another year, and for a new beginning to be. For resilience to find me when I have none, and for vulnerability and love to lead its way.