29

The day has finally arrived. I am officially 29 years old.


And what a crazy 29 years it's been. Birthdays are great days to reflect upon your life thus far... what you've accomplished, what you hope to accomplish, what curveballs life has thrown your way.


My mother was 29 years old when she had me, 29 years ago. I was her first child. She pushed and pushed for many hours until the doctors finally got around to telling her that her cervix was impossibly small, and that natural childbirth could never happen. An emergency C-section quickly followed and voila, a screaming red-headed girl child named Sara Margaret was born into this world.


Thanks mom, for not giving up on me. Sorry about all that pushing in vain. And sorry about those teenage years filled with door slamming and angsty moodiness.


But I've made it through 29 years and I'm looking forward to the future. 30 is going to be a great birthday. I'm ready. My twenties were wonderful and tumultuous and too much fun but I'm ready, so ready to settle into my 30's. Be an adult. Get a dog. Maybe buy a house. Begin to think about marriage and kids. Start drinking my bourbon with a splash of prune juice.


Okay, I may be kidding about that last one. But as much as a theater girl can, I'm growing up. And I'm embracing every single minute of it.