364

           It’s little after midnight. I am lying on my bed staring at the ceiling time to time illuminated by passing cars. As if by command my phone starts to demand attention with quiet but nevertheless persistent ringing. Again and again... one after another messages flow into my inbox letting restlessness spread through my body. I can’t ignore it any longer! Reaching out into the darkness, I search for the cold smooth surface of my phone hiding the chaotic pile of notes. I quickly scroll through the messages....

So, this is it.

It’s my birthday. 

For twenty second time in my life:

Day number 1!

I feel strange. Technically speaking I am older now. Older then I was half an hour ago, but that short half an hour ago I was only 21. I am older, but I don’t feel different. I am still the same person I was few minutes ago.

I am still in my bed, still in the same room, still staring at the same ceiling.

Then what has changed?

Aren’t we supposed to ‘mature’ with age?

I do not feel any wiser, smarter... I don’t even feel older.

The only thing that changed in the past hour are those few messages on my phone that made me cry a little... sudden inexplicable embrace of happiness... only here, hidden in the darkness of my room where no one could see I feel everything much more profoundly than I ever let know.

Thus, if nothing had changed, except a short emotional intermezzo, how can I be sure I am older?

The only day this incomprehensible advancement of numbers makes a significant difference, the only time the Day 1 really matters is the one when you turn eighteen. One night you are a child, the next, you are an adult, an apparent member of society fully responsible for your actions... with right to vote, with right to drink... with right to decide for yourself. And yet, you are no different from that carefree child from night before...

Than what makes me so different from being twenty one?

Well, in theory, the answer is really simple.

It is not the famous ‘Day 1’ that makes me twenty two. It’s those 364 days before it.

We rarely realize that the moment we reach an age, we are ceasing to be it. On the next day after your birthday... you start to create a person you will be when you get once and again older.

So, I guess, I really am twenty two... and comparing to who I was on the day of the twenty first anniversary of my first day.

I do feel older, I do feel different, and I do feel stronger... And most of all, I would not exchange one of those 364 days that brought me to this very moment... to this room, to this apartment, to this town, to France... and I cannot wait for those other 364 to come along, to take me to other rooms, other cities, other countries... In a way I cannot wait to get older. :)

I have never quite understood what is the big deal about getting old... older I get, closer I am to the person I would like to be, closer I get to living life I always dreamed of living. This simple fact is so fascinating by itself that thinking of age steeling my  youth seems rather foolish.

 

Get older.

Just one day at a time.

A little closer.