Turning 27

I turned twenty-seven years old today. The morning greeted me with soft raindrops and chirping birds, the fall leaves on the trees glowing amongst the September grey skies. I slept in late, allowing my body to fully rest in the knowledge that today— there was nothing to be done, no places to be. I drank my morning coffee in the bath, windows open, feeling the cool air circulate around the cedar scented steam. I smiled to myself at the thought of sitting in my sunroom after my bath, wet hair tamed into french braids, wrapped up in my flannel robe, drinking a rooibos tea. There is nothing more celebratory to me than relishing in the peace that surrounds my home, a peace I once wished for while blowing out birthday candles from years past.

We spent the night before my birthday celebrating with our families, my heart bursting gratitude seeing my partner’s family and mine blend together into something new. Ian gifted me with a rebuilt vintage mountain bike, my first “real” adult bike. My heart filled with childlike glee seeing it waiting for me at the bottom of our stairs, surrounded by colorful balloons. There are still some finishing touches to be made, but it’ll soon be up and running in time for scenic autumnal rides.

This past year was one of the most challenging years of my adult life. I can say with full confidence that I have no idea how I would have gotten through it without the loving support of my partner and the answered prayer that is our beloved home (and of course, knitting, hours and hours of knitting). Each year of my twenties has felt like a complete saga, for better or for worse. Despite the uniquely heartbreaking nature of this past year, I find myself grateful for the wisdom of age. In a climate that depicts female aging with such unrelenting disdain, I am here to proudly say that aging is the best gift life has given me. My thirties are hovering on the horizon, and I am certain that they will be filled with a certainty and peace that I can only begin to imagine.

I feel a real sense of optimism about the year ahead that feels unlike the unrealistic “this year, everything will be perfect” kind of hopefulness I’ve felt in years past. I feel like the characters I read about in books as a kid, adventuring into the unknown with only the essentials, equipping them to survive all that life may throw at them. Here are my essentials I am carrying into this twenty seventh year of life:

• Woolgathering by Patti Smith

  • I was gifted this book of poems by a dear friend on my twenty-fifth birthday, and it continues to be a source of comfort and wisdom. I read my favorite poem in this video.

• Susan Branch

  • If you don’t know who Susan Branch is, boy do I have an absolute treat for you. Susan’s book Autumn was a ritual in my childhood. My mom would bring it out every year when the leaves began to change, it felt like a real marker of the seasons. I would come home from school with pumpkins on the porch and this book set out on the counter, ready to indulge in its cozy perfection. Susan’s books are a true respite for the soul, each page is completely handwritten and hand painted in watercolor, filled with recipes and advice on making a cheerful home.

• Writing

  • This blog has been an absolute joy to create. The quiet reflective practice of chronicling my thoughts and creative endeavors outside of my own personal journal has been such a treat. Thank you, reader, for being here.

• A willingness to try

  • Knitting has really taught me the power of a willingness to try. Each new skill acquired feels like a little gift for showing up, for trusting the process, for trying something new. In a world filled with pessimism and immediate gratification, bring a willingness to try to the table. Show up to an event in your community that you don’t know anything about, make new connections, believe in your ability to do hard things.

• Celebrating “full out”

  • Ian and I blew up balloons until we felt like we were going to pass out in preparation for our family birthday party. A small part of me felt embarrassed at the level of decor, I joked with Ian that an outsider would assume we were throwing a child’s birthday party. But in all honesty, my heart needed a birthday reminiscent of my childhood. Wear that fancy dress, blow up those balloons, get that overly decorated cake— do it all if it brings you joy.

• Sleep

  • The older I’ve gotten, the more a 9:30 bedtime has transformed from a sleep goal to a sleep necessity. I cannot emphasize enough how much an early bedtime will transform your life. Sleep early, sleep well, and sleep often. Do not make sleep your enemy.

• Hosting well and often

  • Each time we host at our house, we realize how ill equipped we technically are for hosting, but we do it anyways. We bring out our entire (small) collection of utensils and serve takeout with ill fitted spoons and awkwardly flat spatulas- but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the loved ones we host at our kitchen table, eating well and making memories. This year we are hosting our first family christmas, and I cannot wait to make our home feel as magical as possible. Bring people in, make them feel welcomed, be generous.

• Remembering what the gift of life truly is

  • I’ll end with this. I was recently watching this video from BiblioSophie, in which she recounts the sensation of being in remission from cancer and all of the complexities that come with it. She so wisely says “I don’t think thriving is a painless act”. The gift of life is not the highest highs. The gift of life is the cultivation of the world you want to be a part of. It’s the hard work of showing up, day after day, of believing in a purpose bigger than yourself. It’s tilling the soil, watering it daily, and not choosing to believe it was all a waste when the growth doesn’t happen overnight. The gift of life is happening all around you, right now. It is not a feeling that you need to wait to receive, rather, it’s patiently waiting for you, with open and loving arms.

xx,

Ellie