Sixteen years ago I turned 16. I had the most fun birthday party ever. My bffs (who are really just my sisterchicks as teenagers) and I donned thriftstore cast-off prom & bridesmaid dresses and headed downtown to Underground Atlanta. We rented a hunter green Camry, ate at Mick’s and then had a slumber party at my house.
Staci, Jill, Becky, Mandi, me, Kristen
I know it never crossed my mind that sixteen years later I’d be 32. Who thinks of things like that? Not 16 year olds, that’s for sure. I’m pretty sure all I was thinking about was how I wish I had that green Camry for myself, the guys I was crushing on and if I was brave enough to get my driver’s license.
I could have never imagined that 16 years later I’d be nursing my sweet Asa and watching him fall asleep in my arms. I would have never imagined that laying next to my sleeping son, hearing my daughter whisper “Happy Birthday” all on her own would be the best birthday presents I’d ever have.
When I turned 16 it was my entire life. Now it’s only half of my life. Time is weird. But it’s good. And full. And deep. And sad. And happy. And fleeting.
In 16 more years my daughter will be 19. My son will be almost 17. I will be 48. And just like my 16 year old self, I can’t fathom it. But I look forward to the beautiful things my heart can’t imagine today but will cherish on that day.
