XXIX, or What I Learned In My Twenty-Eighth Year Alive

I cannot stay awake for much longer. Today was a Day. In an hour and change, I will twenty-nine, which isn’t old but feels old sometimes except when it doesn’t. I do not feel twenty-eight and I doubt I’ll feel twenty-nine.

This year, I learned:

• Patience, or how to exhale it out
• Relativity, or how we think or say things matter but we will not see that there things matter more
• Size, or how to treat others who are smaller
• Home, or ‘happiness is wet and scratchy cat-tongue’, or ‘An unmade bed is fine as long as it gets filled up with warmth against the night’.

I may get a pie for my birthday. Maybe even a drill-driver.