On turning 39

I don’t like my birthday.

Or, at least, I have a complicated relationship with it.

The greatest grief I’ve ever experienced is the transition from wanting kids to no longer needing to have them.

Of all the things I could cry about seven weeks after brain surgery, the only subject that I shed a tear over was attending my friend’s wedding.

It started when I was four: ear infections. Dozens of them, one after another, until my tiny, crayon-sized ear canals began closing in on themselves.

Concerts and Tennis and Book Signings, Oh My!