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Wednesday, May 18, 2005

24

Twenty-four years ago I decided that either I couldn’t wait to see what was out there or that I was tired of sharing a cramped space. So I pushed my sister ahead of me, and at 1:50 a.m. in Alma, Michigan, she arrived into the world, followed by me five minutes later. We were six weeks early and I weighed 4.5 lbs, which I think is almost less than the burrito I ate for lunch yesterday.

We landed into the arms of Doctor Sonnad, who handed us to our scared-as-all-hell parents. The birth certificate I’m looking at now says that, at the time of my birth, my dad was 28 years old and my mom 27. I cannot imagine my parents just a few years older than I am now, and I certainly cannot imagine having twins at that age.

After nine days in the hospital, during which time we lay baking in incubators like burgers under McDonald’s heat lamps, our proud (but still scared) parents took us home. I weighed even less. My mom says I screamed for four hours straight every night, my sister joining briefly in sympathy. Eventually it must have calmed down, though, because I do — believe it or not — remember laying calmly in our crib and examining a framed picture of Eeyore on the wall. I still have a weakness for Eeyore.

And now it’s nearly a quarter century later. In many ways, life for me is still winding up. Childhood has come to a close only to bring on the onset of adulthood and all its fun and games. T-ball games in which I couldn’t believe a ball could travel faster than a person running have transitioned into weekly softball games. Choreographing dance moves to Tiffany’s “I Think We’re Alone Now” has transitioned into choreographed dance moves to Britney. The moment when my parents sat me down and taught me the letter “A” (I do remember that moment) has transitioned into a love of the written word. Each transition makes sense. I am who I am and always have been.

Now that the milestone birthdays are over, I feel it’s expected for me to start dreading birthdays. But I won’t. I’ll change the banner on this blog to read “24-year-old” without regret and I plan on doing the same when I turn 30, 40, and 50. That is, if I make it that far. There are no promises, after all, which is part of the fun.

So, yes, bring on 24. I’m ready.

Posted by Aaron on May 18, 2005 12:08 PM