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...and
Suddenly you’re 30.
You’re a little bit more hurt.
Winters seem more frequent than summers and it’s Christmas again.
And you don’t know if you’ve made the right choices because there have been too many and you can’t remember them all.
The Christmas tree looks the same as last year.
Your parents aren’t 'doing' presents this year. But you’re a bridesmaid in a sparkly red dress for someone who has loved you for a long time. And the boy will be there to dance with you.
Your very own perfect Ken doll. Just like you always wanted for Christmas.
But daddy looks tired because he’s been very ill. You worry but your life is far away. Should you move back home maybe? Not home-home but near? Would the boy like it?
Would you?
In the mornings there are cuddles and the boy dances with you in his arms to radio 2. They are strong arms.
And the cat licks your nose.
Your knees feel 30, and you remember your nana telling you that she felt 21. You feel 21. Tired 21. And your hangovers hurt too much to bear. They aren’t funny. MacDonalds doesn’t taste good.
But it’s summer in New Zealand.
It’s always summer somewhere.
Eating curry after 9pm fucks with your head!
Last night I dreamed my whole family were lined up and shot
In a theme park
By my ex boyfriend
Actually...
This year has been a strange one, and quite uppy-downy in a way that befits the final part of my 20’s.
I saw the last New Year in with my then boyfriend, watching my parents celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary. I will end it with a (different) live in partner who is soon to ask me to marry him (or so I am led to believe).
Between this there has been some upheaval, some soul searching and a fair portion of hurt… but really more than anything there has been a feeling that everything is finally just right.
I wish that somebody could have told me the end of this tale when I was younger… not because it would have changed anything, but because I think I would have enjoyed the reality TV, the Vegas wedding and the white powdered Champagne nights a little more knowing where I would finally land.
I saw Love Actually last night, with the third boyfriend I have had since it was released. And I realised something important, as the cat curled up on my knee. I realised that I have been on a journey over those three years. An epic journey.
When I first watched the movie I was compared often to the naughty PA who gets an expensive necklace for Christmas, but ultimately spends it alone. This time I was the Portuguese girl… happy, in love and with the world (and Colin Firth) laid out before her wrapped in fairy lights.
I envied my parents last year for their obvious love and devotion. Now I finally know that I have the potential for all of that myself. The only person who can fuck it up is me…
Sadly, on past form…