I'm So Old, So Old

I suppose a birthday merits a blog entry. I’ve been feeling very philosophical lately, doing things so cliché as questioning the meaning of life. I haven’t done anything so ridiculous as producing an adequate answer to that rhetorical question, but I truly have been feeling really, really old.

A little over a year ago, my family had a traumatic car accident, where we hydroplaned off the highway and rolled three times down a hill. Result: totaled car and everyone walking away with only minor scratches, bruises, and muscle pains. Since then, I have so frequently forgotten the terrors of that day and significance of being personally and literally hit with an understanding of how transient life is. What if I had died that day? There’s a proper rhetorical question, scary with all its potential.

The day of our accident, I think I really appreciated my family for who they are and what they signify in my life. That realization, however, has definitely slipped since then. When I first thought about coming home for a long summer, the idea of too much family time and too little personal space plagued me. My family knows how to push all of my buttons and refuses to put up with any of my crap—the best of both worlds.

I was thinking today, though, about the horrors of being an only child, deprived of my three aggravating, loveable siblings. This summer has been an incredibly wonderful blend of relaxation and family time. It seems that we all realize this will be our last summer under one roof and have come to a consensus to have good attitudes. This weekend I got to spend some alone time with each of siblings: road trip with my sister, out to lunch with my older brother, and artistic time with my little brother.

We played my favorite game tonight, my little brother and I: we take turns coming up with a word and both have to draw the word. Our game lasted a few hours, and we laughed at each other’s poorer and more ridiculous drawings throughout. I suppose it was not a particularly noteworthy occasion, but for me, all these ideas that have been drifting about in my mind lately came together in a really beautiful way.

I have a home. I have a family. They love me, and I love them. I belong, I live, I laugh, and I know they would miss me if I were gone. They will miss me next year when I’m abroad as much as I shall miss them. That couch was my sphere, my little brother and my dog Charlie understood me. My family molded my values, and I survived childhood by getting along with my siblings and adapting to their personalities. I’ve been shaped by them to be one of them. Why is this so important? Because at home, I lose my filter between what I want to say and what I do say as much as is possible in our world. Being stripped to that extent, and accepted and loved while being that naturally myself, is beautiful.

So another birthday has come, and I’ve simply come to a greater realization of the blessings God has given me. Not of who I am or why I’m here or what I will do with my life but just that my life is good. That's all.