Bonjour Twenty

I find myself on this particularly steamy afternoon in my favorite campus nook, the bookstore. There is just something magnificent about being surrounded by books, I even enjoy the aroma of the coffee wafting from the upper level cafe even though I detest the beverage. Classes are finished for the week and the most difficult task that I now face is deciding what fun adventures I get to partake in over the course of the glorious weekend. The weekend. Can you believe it? It is here (well for me it is), finally deciding to show up, like a fashionably late socialite. I have no idea what this weekend will entail, which is one of the most exciting aspects, not knowing what is just around the corner. This weekend I could bake a cake, or learn a few phrases in French. I could even spend an afternoon walking barefoot on the magnificently warm grass that is so saturated in its green color that one would almost assume it was a figment of the imagination. Just the pure idea of wiggling my toes in the emerald blades has my heart swelling with something that I can only attribute to spring fever, after all it is the middle of April.

I think April is one of the most beautiful months of the calendar, which is strange because I love the fall season, nevertheless April is one of my favorite spring time months. The cold wrath of the winter is beginning to fade while the weather has not yet succumbed to the intensity of the summer's heat. April is that limbo area, that spectacular limbo area of the seasons. April also holds my birthday. My birthday is one week and one day in the future. I swear that it snuck up on me this year, has it really been one full year already? I am turning twenty. Twenty. Waving Au Revoir to my teenage years and embracing young adulthood fully. I have been dreading turning twenty for quite some time now. Particularly, because it just sounds so old, so antiquated, so mature. In perspective, I am truly cognizant of how young twenty still is, barely scratching the entity we all so unduly avoid called adulthood. It would be lovely that when the final hours of my being nineteen years begin to slip away, that truths and knowledge of the universe will slowly beam into my consciousness, no doubt leading me to a graceful step in maturity. That does happen, right?

Although I am certainly nervous about turning twenty, I am more cautious of the day itself. You see, I have never particularly enjoyed having a birthday. For me it was always torturous. On some occasions I would not even tell my friends that it was my birthday, just to avoid the embarrassing singing, gift bearing, and unnecessary attention. I see many other girls with birthday tiaras donned, rocking a feather boa and their prettiest dress on their birthday's. I own only three dresses: my prom dress, my graduation dress, and the dress that I wear for Christmas festivities. Three. Uno, dos, tres. Not one of those would be appropriate to prance around on my birthday, although I am sure that I would catch many glances in wearing my prom gown. I also live my life sans skirts. Do not even get me started on high-heels, I think I have enough height already.

I have an extremely difficult time in dealing with attention. I have this wall-flower-esque-problem. I would much rather attend a friend's birthday party than my own. I love giving gifts, but feel awkward in receiving them. I love baking cakes, but rarely eat them myself. I love throwing surprise parties (and am quite talented in doing so), but break out into panic at just the thought of them. I think you see the pattern here. The most distressing question that I ever receive is: what would like for a present? I never cease to answer this annual question with an eloquent and well thought out Hmm. Even though I am quite aware that the question will tumble out of a loved one's mouth, I still have no idea how to answer. Probably because I do not even know what I want. Socks? A popsicle? (Not really a popsicle, just an inside joke) A book? Just thinking about it now makes me a shift a little in my seat and blush. Truthfully, I love every present I have ever received. Every last one. I do not complain. How can you when a close family member or friend take time out of their day to purchase something special just for you?

I know that twenty is a big deal and all so this is just my little way of kind-of-sort-of-just-a-little-bit telling you that, yes, my birthday is next week. So we should celebrate right? I do not even know the first thing about celebrating. It is also on Good Friday/Easter weekend. Carrot cake and Easter baskets for everyone! I will just have to deal with it. Plus, I am so very excited for the journey to come as a twenty year old girl/woman. I am planning a trip to study abroad in Paris, France, will be working as a resident assistant, will be a junior in college (holy cow! I can't believe that I just wrote that, it is so scary yet amazing! I swear yesterday was my first day of Freshman year, I blinked and now I am a sophomore-practically-junior.), and all of the exciting parts that I do not have the privilege of knowing beforehand. It is long overdue for me to embrace this time of my life because I know that I will only look, act, and be this way for but a breath of my existence.

Twenty is the year to:

eat,

bake,

love.


Speaking of baking...I have found a super-delicious yet surprisingly healthy Easter brunch pastry that I feel is a part of my destiny to create.

Carrot Cake Cinammon Rolls