Thirty is a monumental year. More so than twenty. I have yet
to see what forty, or fifty, or even sixty may be like. Very different from
thirty, no doubt. When I turned thirty, I was still single and free to do what
I liked. I definitely will not have that liberty in five years when forty rolls
around…
Which is why I spent my thirtieth birthday in New Hampshire.
I had moved to Texas six months before it and I was not about to spent that
monumental occasion in 70 degree temps without a hope for snow or even a spring
thaw. I packed my bags and flew north where it was snowing when I arrived…and
snowed a couple of times again before I left. Exactly what I wanted for my
thirtieth.
There was the usual spring thaw. Katey and I drove down to
Newport, Rhode Island on my actual birthday. We called it a pilgrimage –
visiting the place where I was born thirty years later. Of course, the house I
lived in isn’t there anymore (an old rumor says it was moved somewhere else,
not torn down). Neither is the hospital (well, the building is there and is
apparently even haunted but it’s no longer in use). So, we visited a few
mansions, and had clam chowder at the Black Pearl, and walked around town, and
enjoyed an Awful Awful at the Newport Creamery. All without the need of a
jacket, but that made for a rather pleasant day in Newport.
I celebrated with the Wilkins and Walker clans as well.
Allyson’s little boy Seth’s birthday is three days before mine, so I was
invited to join in the festivities. He certainly got the better toys! But I had
a walk down memory lane when I celebrated later with Katey, Scott and Daniel.
Katey got me thirty things from the 1980s. Remember Care Bears? Puff paint? Jellies?
We had some good laughs.
Truly, my thirtieth birthday is probably one of my favorite
birthdays. I enjoyed turning thirty – anything to get out of the decade of the
twenties which had not been fun. And I spent it in places I love with people I
love. You can’t ask for more than that.
Katey and I at the Breakers in Newport.
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