“Ten, plus ten, plus ten, plus two. That’s how old I am turning today, but if anyone asks, what will you tell them?” “21”, they all respond with a giggle. “She only looks 21”, I hear Griffin whisper to Nate, and make a mental note that Griffin can have first choice of the playdough during free play later that day. As kind as he was to say that, it’s far from true. I have grey hair. My eyes wrinkle a little more in the corners when I smile.  I realise as I look back at the old photos that friends and family have sent with their wishes for ‘the best year yet’, that I’ve lost that fullness to my skin of a 20 something year old. But I also know, that in ten years time, I will look back at my 32 year old self and spot even more differences. And does it matter? Aren’t these changes marks of experience? Growth. Lessons learnt. Doesn’t that make them beautiful?

I walk over to my desk that morning, and I stop for a moment to appreciate how beautiful the mess looks today; handmade cards from students, flowers, chocolates, cupcakes that Niah would have insisted her Mum bake for me the night before, cards left on my desk from team members, an empty coffee cup from a breakfast shared with my family and friends. I could see the screen on my phone lighting up, and knew there would be missed calls and messages to read and reply to (and boy, some of these messages were beautiful). I took a deep breath and appreciated the feeling that everyone had banded together to create – I felt special. And sometimes that feeling grows a lump in my throat, and sometimes the lump can turn to a tear. And sometimes the tear can turn into more tears, and then the kids ask ‘what’s wrong?’ and I have to explain that sometimes we cry because we are just so happy.

A quick train ride into Melbourne – “sorry Hannah, I just have to call one more person back”- and I am soon surrounded by friends joining me for a drink by the river. As an Espresso Martini arrives to my table (courtesy of Dail, a surprise left for me at the bar), I smile and wonder… how did I ever get so lucky? What was I so worried about? Birthdays ARE wonderful

after all.

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31 taught me that it is a blessing to be living and ageing, when so many people unfairly lose this chance.

31 encouraged me to let go of the expectations of what I thought my life should look like, and to trust where my path is leading me right now.

31 demonstrated that lots of things are temporary.

31 taught me that I can fall. Wilt.

And I can also rise and bloom again.

31 taught me that happiness is built in moments, not by ticking things off a ‘life checklist’.

31 showed me that the sea, the sun, the outdoors, and the company of my friends is so powerful.

31 made me soft. Then hard. And then soft again. I made my own type of chemistry.

32 is my Dad’s lucky number.

My twin brother will be 32 right alongside me.

32.

Kids… I’m not 21. It’s ok. You can tell them… I’m 32.