My Birthday

My birthday was this past weekend, but instead of mulling over the fact that I'm a year older, I'm thinking about what we were doing 10 years ago.

A decade ago this week, Paul was just starting a new job in Ohio while baby Edith and I remained in New York for one final week, packing up and waiting for the movers. The following weekend Paul drove back to Ohio to pick us up and we moved back for good.

Ten years! I had tears in my eyes when we left Brooklyn, but I haven't regretted the decision (although I thought that I would). It was a good choice.

A lot happened between the ages of 22 and 32: I got married. We lived in New York for more than half of that time. Edith was born toward the tail-end of that decade.

But maybe 32 to 42 was just as eventful: We moved back to Ohio just days after that birthday. I started a freelancing career. Atticus was born a couple of years later. We built strong friendships and a community that supports as ... and vice versa.

No one likes getting older after a certain age, right? But I'm eager to see what the next 10 years bring.