reflections on 27
My diary entry on last year’s birthday: “I’m supposed to leave NY in a few months and my heart constricts when I think about it. But change brings growth and grander perspective and I’m sure when I’m 28 looking back at 27, I’ll feel the same sense of warm nostalgia and joy. There’s so much more to come.”
I spent the first week of 28 living like a princess at the estate of my wonderful friend. I walked into a lavender room to find a “happy birthday” banner stretched across the marble mantel and champagne and chocolates on the dresser. In the morning, I opened my curtains to reveal gardens so symmetrical they may as well have been painted - and in the distance, an island on the loch with a castle (where Mary Queen of Scots was imprisoned and forced to abdicate - not so dreamy, but impressively historic).
My birthday fell during final assessments, just like it did in undergrad. But I’m grateful for the timing, because amidst the stress of Modigliani-Miller and regression models, I had many moments to look around at friends who made time to surprise me, send sweet wishes, celebrate for days, and spoil me in flowers and coconut treats and hand-written cards.
Early on in the term, I told my best friend how I wasn’t sure I’d ever find my place at Oxford. I cried. Change fucking hurts — I always forget just how much.
So, I made it to 28 looking back at 27. And I feel the warm nostalgia and joy that I predicted one year ago. Because the payoff from the pain of change can be so, so worth it.
