Wow! I’m closer to 40 than 30.
I know that to those who have gone pass the age of 40, 36 does not mean anything. I feel you. I do understand. When teenagers make a huge deal about reaching their 20’s or when a 29-year-old panics upon turning 30, I can’t help but smirk, safe in my 30 something age, and say, “Ha! That’s chicken feed!
When I reached 25, I stopped caring about my age. So, when people ask me how old I am, I would get this blank look on my face and then remember to count from 1982 – in tens, to speed things up, just like how my Father taught me.
As I grow older, I’ve learned not to hide the truth that I prefer solitude. In my kindergarten and early elementary days, I would seek the solace of our town's library and lost myself in books. In my late elementary days until high school, I would seek the calmness of the local old Catholic church, slip inside, sit at the back pew, lean on the backrest, look up to the ceiling, close my eyes and listen to the echoes of the birds chirping. In my last year of high school up to late teens, I got lucky to be in the middle of nowhere surrounded by trees. In my college years, I would seek the serenity of a retreat camp. If I was at home, I would be inside my room – which I shared with one of my siblings and for the life of me, I can’t remember which of the three – reading. All these I did alone, away from people’s questioning eyes. Not every day. Just for a few minutes. I’m not even sure if my parents know that I did these. Now they do. If they have the patience to read this. Maybe I should make this longer?
People who know me before I became bold to become quiet will never describe me as, well, quiet or reserved. Before, when I was surrounded by people, I would be in the thick of things, speaking and doing something. I didn’t want to be belong.
But I’ve since learned to embrace isolation where I am most comfortable, and appreciate the interaction every once in a while – sincerely asking people how they’ve been even if it’s not their birthday, sporadic dinners with friends, or discreetly observing strangers and situations and finding something funny about it. All casual. But for me, they’re special, because I seldom do it. Added bonus are the friends who let me be me. As for my parents, siblings, husband, children, well, they don’t have a choice but to love me, no matter how weirder I may get.
I am currently on the process of trying to get to know the HS more. We’ll see where He’d take me.
