Thirty-Three

Cupcakes & Cashmere jacket (c/o Shopbop)
Sezane dress (similar)
J. Crew heels
Louis Vuitton bag
RayBan sunglasses
ASOS beret
Wolf Circus necklace (similar)
Madewell rings
Urban Outfitters earrings (similar)
Location: Manitoba Legislative Building – Winnipeg, Manitoba

Today, I turn thirty-three. We will celebrate my birthday by catching a train to Verona, where we will spend the night at a hotel I’ve long dreamed of visiting. We often travel around my birthday, but generally, I try not to be away on the twenty-fourth of September. It didn’t work out that way this year, which means cake and champagne will have to wait. (Well, cake and champagne with family and friends, I mean, because at the very least, there will be champagne today.) Upon reflection, I really don’t mind. Being away from Europe for sixteen months was far too long, and I am overjoyed to be back on the continent that feels most like home to me.

If I’m honest, I’m not sure I ever thought I would be thirty-three. Not that I expected to die young – nothing that morbid. But I’ve never been a long-term planner. I still spend precious little time thinking about the future until it arrives – there are positive and negative aspects of this, but it’s in my nature to live in the moment. I don’t expect that will ever change. It was twenty years ago that I realised that made me different from most people. My eighth-grade teacher gave us a quiz, and one of the questions was, “How old do you wish you were?” Without any hesitation, I wrote down my own age: thirteen. Everyone else in my class said they wished to be older, dreamed of growing up and getting married and starting careers. I didn’t love eighth grade, but I was glad to be there and experience it, anyway.

I didn’t really think I would ever be thirty-three, but much like when I was thirteen, I’m glad to be here and experience it. Thirty-three isn’t a momentous year. It isn’t a milestone, it’s just another age. But milestones are arbitrary. Sixteen was supposed to be an important year, and I spent it utterly miserable. Thirty-two was just another year, but I loved it. There were ups and downs to be sure, but since I turned thirty, every year seems to be better than the last – each one comes with more calm, more confidence, and a lot more adventures. It’s hard to know if the pattern can really continue, but thirty-three is here and I’m looking forward to the twelve months ahead, whatever they may bring. Starting the year in Italy is, I must admit, an awfully good start.

So – cheers to another year and many new adventures!