Thirty-four. I turned 34 years old this week. Not a big deal I guess, but I notice that awkward inching toward 35 simply because I am a woman who has not given birth to children (yet) and what I know is that when women bear children after 34, they are watched extra carefully by medical staff. Additional precautions are taken. And, yes, I know that plenty of women give birth to plenty of healthy babies after the ripe age of 34. I know too that adoption is a wonderful opportunity that may be available to me. I'm not depressed about it. Just noticing that's all. Looking at my life head on. Seeing the details in all their nuances. And I am remembering being a mom. Feeling the feelings of no longer having the kids in my life. Wondering about the future. Maybe that is what birthdays are for. Remembering the past. Being in the present. Imagining the future. Here is to 34 years of love, joy, fulfillment, sadness, grace, gratitude, hope, pain and fun. Here is to the however many more years which are guaranteed to include more of the same. Let it be so.