In the spirit of newness and beginning my life as a twenty-seven year-old, I am envisioning getting home early, eating a variety of comfort foods, and watching hours of sitcom reruns. This is not the plan for forever, so do not worry, it is only the result of a birthday celebration yesterday, which began in the afternoon, and carried on til the night. All the nights of little sleep, the stresses of gift buying and hours on the road are crashing into my very being today, as though I've finally reached the end of one period and can now commence another, and the result is a pleasant buzz of serenity, a longing for the messily made bed. It's been warm here. 70 or so each day this week. As I was driving home the other night in the soft light of a late afternoon, I noticed the smells and sounds of my little Carrboro, with the car window open and music turned down. The driver in front of me waved to someone sweeping the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop. Jesus, I thought, do I love it here? I do. I ache for the busy streets of an urban metropolis, like New York, or the cultured and hip people and scenes of San Francisco, the walkability of busy, cold, brisk Boston. But I felt at home and content for the moment - and realized I could continue on that way for some time.
We got it totally right yesterday. A birthday. An entire day, friends with cold beers and later piano playing right there in the bar. We collected others as the day went on. I was tired at the night's end, but that's alright, it had been a day full of good conversations.
And so, tonight, I will allow myself some peace and quiet and not in the sense that I've been troubled - not at all - but instead a night doing whatever I'd like in the little town I love, thinking about the immediate future, like plans to get a bike, and taking Cecilia to the dog park and an unplanned, unseasonably warm weekend, windows down.