Today was my birthday. I use the past tense because it is almost over now. I'm rather happy about it, as well.
Twenty-eight. Why on earth does that sound so impossible? I shouldn't be so close to thirty--which, I might explain, always sounded incredibly grown up to me. I mean, I still don't have a single answer to any of the questions about life that I've been storing up since I was able to form a complete sentence in my mind. So, how can I be close to "so very grown up" already?
Roger wrote in my birthday card that this was going to be the year. I hope so. I need it to be so. I pray it will be so. And...in the depths of my soul...I think it will be so.
This year, I am going to be a published novelist. This year, things are going to fall into place. This year, more than a few of my questions about life are going to be answered. This year, I'm going to put on the shoes the Lord fashioned me to wear for such a time as this...