the cusp of quarter life
here's to my jubilee
🌲🕯️
I’m not a believer in numerology. Haven’t ever believed in a hidden mysticism behind a sequence of numbers for that matter, but if it’s one thing I will do… is ride by 11.18.
it feels wholly mine.
I wonder if my frontal lobe has truly matured. I’m so used to birthday blues, to this gnawing feeling of inadequacy and desperation that I must prove my worthiness of existence on this day. But thankfully today I’m enjoying the quiet, the calm self-assuredness I doubt I’d have.
Self-preservation has looked different every year, and I can’t help but feel curious about what it will look like this year. I feel as though I’ve spent most of my formative years ruminating on my mortality to only realize sometimes what matters most are the small moments of clarity I can stumble upon. That my humanity is reflected in these snippets of time.
It’s November which means my floors are too cold to tread on barefoot, and I’m on the hunt for a pair of mittens to brave the winter ahead. But this year, the wind coos with just a bit more promise. It soothes me and reminds me feeling okay is not far from experiencing optimism, which is not far from having faith, which is not far from remembering that Allah is Al-Wadud.
On the phone a week or so ago, my mom told me that emotions are ‘my number one’ and she’s right. I’ve spent too much time trying to put my hands around the idea of myself, only to realize today, that that will always be futile. Something I should focus on more is how there will always be a great deal amount of love exerted from one moment to the next, and I hope I can work on tucking those moments, like small notes, in between corners to save for the future.
I’m looking forward to:
Wondering who the next person I’ll hug will be
What joke my mom will tell me next time we chat
The taste of cold pickled ginger
Developing the film I have in my disposable camera
Hearing my sister on the phone
Completing a presentation for school this coming Tuesday
The next episode of Abbott Elementary
Speaking to the craft lady at my local farmer’s market
The next time my cat decides to cuddle with me and perhaps bite me
Sitting with my clinical triad and staring at the framed photo of a cattail on the wall
Meeting my baby brother
Telling an eager friend all about my day
Hearing them tell me all about theirs
Trying to find a way to make the following composition by this composer the theme of my new chapter, only because we coincidentally share a birthday and it was composed in the year 1811
Carl Maria von Weber* - Clarinet Concerto No. 2 in E flat major, Op. 74 (1811)
Till next time,
Amira