This past week everyone who has wished me a Happy Birthday has said “You’re a quarter of a century old now!” (Oh, and if you are reading this and did not wish me a happy birthday, please go on Facebook and do so. And then continue reading. You haven’t truly wished me a happy birthday unless it is on Facebook.) Where was I? Oh, right. Being a quarter of a century old. Every time it was said to me, I just did my “polite chuckle” – you know, the one you do when your grandmother says something crazy or your co-worker makes an inappropriate joke about the Holocaust.
I don’t know why, but I just don’t get the significance of the term. I am 25. And yes, 25 is a quarter of a century (1/4 for you math geniuses, Harvard graduates, and rain men out there) but after the nineteenth person said it to me I got a little agitated. We don’t say to someone turning five “Ah! Happy Birthday Susie! You’re half a decade!” or to someone turning 77 “Ah! You’re really old, Ned!”
My point, and I did have one, but I lost it when I was thinking about that Holocaust joke my co-worker told me the other day. In any event, I am 25, and as much as I thought I would dread it and be scared, I’m surprisingly okay with it. A lot has changed this past year and I finally feel like an adult. I graduated college, moved to New York City, and have a big-time job working on Wall Street*. I have left the guidance (and monetary bearings) of my parents and am finally taking care of myself; both personally and financially. Can I
borrow have ten dollars?
I am so grateful, honored, and sometimes confused with how many amazing people I have in my life and was truly blessed and surprised with how many of you wished me a Happy Birthday - and meant it. I don’t mean logging onto Facebook and going to that side panel and just typing a generic Birthday message and clicking ‘enter’ before realizing you spelled my name wrong (Aunt Judy) but taking time out of your day to make the phone call, write an email, or send a text message. I will save each one. Oh, shit. I thought I hit ‘save’ but instead hit ‘delete all’. Anyways, I am grateful.
I had the chance to go to Florida for the week to see my family and friends and celebrate my birthday. Luckily my big corporate job allowed for the paid week off**. And while I was there on my vacation I got to see so many people that I have missed while I have been away in New York. Each and every joke was still funny and it seemed no one had really changed. It was as if I had never left. So, thankfully Delta let me fly out a few days earlier so I didn’t have to spend any more time with those people. I am just kidding! I flew United.
Okay, I have been rambling on and on and on about me and my birthday and some of you are like “We get it!” or “Happy Birthday Blue Eyes!” or “What’s that Holocaust Joke?”
But thank you all so much for being there for me and I know you will all help make 25 the best year ever. Because I am the square root of 625! Or two dimes and a nickel. Or three nickels and a dime. Or half way to 50! Or almost 30! Or, my favorite, a quarter of a century!
* Some items in this sentence are false/incorrect.
** Again, sadly, this is not true.