(almost) Thirty-Nine

My sixth and seventh graders had a writing assignment. I thought I would do what I am supposed to do and model some of my own writing for them. We were using different "mentor texts" to guide our inspiration. We read and annotated a few stories. From that, we tried to write our own pieces using those stories as a guide. I chose to write in the same style as Sandra Cisneros in her story "Eleven". This is by far one of my top 5 favorite pieces of writing. Here is a link to this story if you are interested. http://forevafound.tripod.com/eleven.pdf

Below is my attempt at my own "Eleven".

What they don't understand about birthdays and what they never tell you when you're (almost) 39, you're also 38, 37, 36, 35, 34, well, you get the idea. I often close my eyes and hope that that I am not really going to be 39. I close my eyes tight, like the impossible lid on a pickle jar, only to pry them open and I am still going to turn 39. I don't feel like I'm 39. I feel like I am maybe 32. And I am -underneath all the years that make me 39.

There are certainly days that I might say something stupid. Those are the days I am a silly 21 year old. But then there are some days where I want to throw a tantrum and scream and kick-that's the part of me that's 5. Some days I want to cry. It's okay to cry as an adult. It's okay because those are the days I am 3, and it's okay.

I sure wish I wasn't turning 39 in a few weeks. I can't be. I can't because I feel like I'm 8. I want to play outside, climb a tree, hide, run, and be an adventurous princess. I certainly don't want to worry about paying my bills or grade papers...

I guess I have no choice. My birthday is coming if I want it to or not. It's coming like an express train or like the Monday morning after a fun weekend; it's as sure as sugar in maple syrup.

I will do my best to embrace my birthday and be grateful for all that has led up to it--the 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, well, you get the idea.