These days, the weather feels almost funny as if the rain, the sunshine, the wind, and the thunderstorms can’t quite agree with each other. I still can’t believe I’ve just turned 30. Life moves so fast, crazy fast.

One of my birthday rituals for years has been to disappear: to go offline and disconnect from the outside world. On that day, it’s usually just me with myself, and I always enjoy it that way.

This year, I had planned a few days of overnight hiking, but the storm came out of nowhere and I had to cancel. I had dreamed of waking up in the forest, alone, to the sound of the trees singing me happy birthday. But my plans rarely work the way I imagine, and I’m used to broken plans by now. So on one of the very few days I had off from work, I took myself to a café by the ocean and enjoyed the freshness of another brand-new year.

Anthony and I had a chat over chai tea in the early morning before I headed out. We talked about life and how things shift as we grow older. I talked about my past, the lessons I’ve learned, the challenges I’ve walked through, and how much I’ve grown, and yet how much attachment I still carry toward life.

…

I ordered a pot of masala chai (yes, never enough of it) and stuffed mushrooms with sourdough. I sat by the sea, watching the waves crash along the shore, the chilly wind brushing against my skin. The chatter, the coffee grinder, the sunlight, the food – it was a Wednesday morning. I jotted thoughts into my journal, drifted into old memories, and savored a muddy chocolate cake.

I got home as the sun went down. A few friends and family sent birthday wishes. Paul sent a video of himself playing the guitar, singing Opportunity by Peter Murray. The moment he started singing, I burst into tears. I cried, cried like a baby, for no reason and maybe for every reason.

Paul and I don’t talk much these days because of my busy schedule. The last time he messaged me was almost two months ago, asking if I was still alive. In that moment, watching the video, I realized how much I’d let the hustle of life take me away. I’d avoided almost all social interactions. I didn’t check in with friends. I said no to every catch-up.

A few things had happened during that time, abrupt, painful things I still haven’t fully made sense of. The grief has sometimes been too heavy to hold, and all I could do was retreat into my inner world to process it.

I felt terrible knowing people still care for me deeply, from a distance. I felt grateful knowing they still care, and that they accept me for who I am – the messy me, the me who leaves their messages on read for days (and weeks) on end.

Sorry, and thank you, and happy birthday.