My 28th Birthday at Serenbe.

I am loved.

I am overwhelmingly thankful for my kinfolk. They love me well and let me in on their feelings. This year on my birthday, I felt vastly different from a year ago, when I turned 27. I was so mixed up after Everett was born - I was processing his birth and feeling super hormonal and kind of, I don't know, crazed. Sleep-deprived. Void of identity. This year I feel like a completely new woman. I feel strong. Confident. Full. I am working on me and I am poised to give more love than ever, and I am celebrating that feeling. 28 is going to be so so good.

My birthday has come and gone in waves of fun, as I celebrated with Stevie and Everett, then with my parents and sister, and I will keep celebrating into next week with my in-laws and extended family! See what I mean about being a lucky girl? Gosh I could pinch myself. I had such a wonderful dinner date out with Stevie on my actual birthday. We drank wine in the cold September rain at an outdoor restaurant in the city, with just a tiny little canvas umbrella protecting us from the bucketing monsoon, and we laughed and talked and stayed out late and IT WAS THE BEST. I am so grateful for that man, who supports my dreams and lets me talk in loopy circles around him. Who listens to my unedited rants without judgement. Who challenges me, convicts me, laughs with me and gives sound advice, and doesn't question when I order all the desserts. Who sends champagne to the table because he knows its my favorite, and drinks it with me even though it's definitely not his favorite. He's the one guys. After 8 years, I still know that he is SO THE ONE.

I took no pictures from that date. Because I was on a date.

But Serenbe! My parents took us out to The Farmhouse at Serenbe for a birthday lunch, and that place is so picturesque and darling and we really couldn't resist snapping a few shots, especially because Everett was frolicking all over like he owned the place. Friends, Serenbe's southern fried chicken and chocolate brownies are irresistible. But the company of my family, taking turns going around the table and expressing to me the reasons why they loved me? That is the memory, knitted and knotted into the permanent fibers of my heart. My spirits were lifted high on this encouragement, this cornerstone of beautiful souls. These gemstones are my people and I couldn't love them more.

Photos!

This little one is fiercely protective of his Nana.

This little one is fiercely protective of his Nana.

Ugh, could my sister be MORE of a babe?? I think not. I'm so lucky because I get all her hand me downs! #shesthestylishone #imthecopycat

Ugh, could my sister be MORE of a babe?? I think not. I'm so lucky because I get all her hand me downs! #shesthestylishone #imthecopycat

I met this butterfly. The caterpillar that it used to be is the type that currently feasts on my garden's cauliflower. I almost slapped this thing across the face. If I could find it's face. Does a butterfly have a face? They might be pretty, but th…

I met this butterfly. The caterpillar that it used to be is the type that currently feasts on my garden's cauliflower. I almost slapped this thing across the face. If I could find it's face. Does a butterfly have a face? They might be pretty, but these critters are FIERCE when it comes to roughage.

Note my dad's biker tan. He's so rad.

Note my dad's biker tan. He's so rad.

We are weird people. There's nothing else to really say.

We are weird people. There's nothing else to really say.

Oh, but these boots. They were my gift to myself :)

Oh, but these boots. They were my gift to myself :)

Aren't they just the sweetest?

Aren't they just the sweetest?

Oh heeeeeeyyyyy Everett.

Oh heeeeeeyyyyy Everett.

Keeper.

Keeper.

These throwing shots never ever get old. I should frame a whole roundup of them, since I've taken so many.

These throwing shots never ever get old. I should frame a whole roundup of them, since I've taken so many.

My mother. Yep.

My mother. Yep.

Everett LOVES my dad's Indian motorcycle. He makes the noises. And he always wants to sit on it. But when my dad fires the thing up, he cries.

Everett LOVES my dad's Indian motorcycle. He makes the noises. And he always wants to sit on it. But when my dad fires the thing up, he cries.

This little sequence just KILLS ME.

This little sequence just KILLS ME.

Wait!

Wait!

Don't go without me!

Don't go without me!

There you have it. 28 is going to be so good!

P.S. - If you think I hang out at Serenbe a lot, you might be right. You can check out our blustery getaway there last year here and here, and our magical day when Everett was followed by a butterfly. Oh Serenbe.

Turning 28.

I am sort of caught up in this poem today, as I contemplate my 28th year.

"Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean -
the one who has flung herself
  out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out
  of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and
  forth instead of up and down -
who is gazing around with her
  enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and
  thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open,
  and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention,
  how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down
  in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how
  to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?"
- The Summer Day, Mary Oliver

I've been sort of electrified and maddened by the echoing question, "what do you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

What is it? What am I doing? What do I want to do? What am I doing?

Well, I'm pretty certain that I want to celebrate. I want to drink champagne and I want to ride atop a jeweled elephant. I want to make my sisters feel my love. I want to cook up a storm and force feed the entire city of Atlanta. I want to sing with my son at the top of our lungs. I want to smell the peonies from my wedding and I want to bury my face in the lush grass of my backyard. I want to tap dance on the stage of the first broadway show I ever saw. (though I don't actually tap dance.) I want to give a certain high school bully a wedgie. I want to lounge on a hammock with my husband and watch the sun go down, reminiscing about all our past adventures. Because they are my favorite memories. I want to take hold of all the sinew, dreams, will and fiber of my being, and I want to give it all away. I want my life to matter. I want to touch the world with my intent. I want to be raw and vulnerable and strong and tall. Gosh, I so want to be tall. I want to make a difference and I want to do it while I'm holding the hands of my loves to the right and to the left. I want to walk into the future, ready, hopeful, good-humored and tireless. I want to harness this wild, precious gift and make it matter.

To many things to wish as I blow out my candle? Well then.

Today I turn 28. Watch me go.