Past, present, and future: A party of possibilities
This year in Lisbon we are getting the longest build-up to summer that anyone can remember. On May 1st, Labor Day, people are usually at the beach. The national holiday brought many out to the ocean, including me, but yesterday we were all covered. A few individuals refused to concede and wore their bathing suits; some even braved the water. But most of us cringed at the very thought of being undressed in the water, preferring instead to remain on the little bar’s terrace in the sun, safely above the beach and icy waves.
With this spring’s unusually cool, drawn-out days, I remain in the state of unrest, excitement, and (at this point) what feels like anticipation of things not even yet realized. Perhaps spring’s magic, even for me, is teetering on too much. Every good thing has to come to an end, and my body is beginning to feel tired of all this excitement. I am not complaining—not for a second! Only recognizing that SO much has been happening, and the moments for processing and letting it all sink in have been few and far between.
My 40th birthday was all that I had hoped for. I was with my mother, who can still recount the day I was born and the blissful calm she felt in the early days of nursing and rocking me to sleep. To know that you were that little soul that made somebody feel such joy is beyond words. My mom was with me on my 30th birthday in Paris. Both of us were “single” and she stayed at my party until the very end, walked me home, and proceeded to nurse me back to sobriety through the night and the entire next day. Luckily, ten years later, I could handle myself and was the one up making coffee the next morning.
My brother Josh flew to Lisbon for the weekend, and we started his first visit to Portugal by heading immediately to the horse barn. We grew up horseback riding and competing together. Strangely, though, I have stronger memories of our time just cleaning the barn; sitting in the yard while our ponies grazed on grass; drinking root beer on the front porch after lessons under the summer sun; of our 30-minute drives back and forth to our trainer’s barn during which we sang as loud as we could to Garth Brooks’ every album.
Five of my closest friends also flew in for the weekend--and longer. I am infinitely blessed to have deeply caring, strong, energetic friends in my life, giving me a sense of collective strength. I know I’m never in this alone. At my actual birthday party, I was also lucky to be surrounded by people that I’ve grown quite fond of here in Lisbon. A year ago I couldn’t invest. I had one good friend, and neither of us knew if we wanted to stay in Lisbon. Everything felt potentially temporary. At this point I know this is where my life and family will be for quite some time. This surety means that I can—and want to—dig in. When I started riding here, almost a year and a half ago, I had this sensation of being on the outside. I knew I was seen as a temporary fixture, someone who would disappear just as quickly as I had shown up. I wondered what it would feel like to become permanent. When I looked around the room at my birthday party, I realized my answer; I also realized that my life’s inevitable highs and lows from this point forward will be largely buttressed by the people who were in that room for my birthday on April 21st.
