My 32nd birthday was spent camping- as in the previous two birthdays- although this time, instead of the North Cascades, I was on a ferry deck traveling through Alaska's Inside Passage. As usual, my friend and I were the only women without male companions, and also as usual, we found ourselves a couple of men on a guy trip. The boat took us past 14,000 foot mountains, bald eagles, orcas, and glaciers, and when the sun set and the deck became cold we all headed into the ferry bar. There was no romantic chemistry with the men, but they were great, and as they talked about their adventures with Peace Corps in Kyrgyzstan and hiking the John Muir trail I wished that I was meeting people like them in the Seattle dating world.
As my friends partner up I am envious of the security they have but also sensitive to the benefits of being single- the stories I hear, the life lessons shared, the ability to wander off the beaten path and camp on a ferry deck with no responsibilities other than to myself. My years to have a child without that dreaded "Advanced Maternal Age" diagnosis code are dwindling, but on that boat I was blissfully aware of my baby-free status.
Then the ferry docked at a remote Alaskan port to pick up passengers, I turned on my cell phone, and a call came in.
It was my younger brother and his girlfriend. "Hey! We weren't sure if you had phone service but we wanted to call and say happy birthday!"
I was suspicious. My brother sounded nervous and I sensed another agenda.
"Also, we have some news to tell you... We're engaged!"
How on earth can I possibly describe, in writing, my reaction to my 29 year old sibling and his 27 year old fiancé telling me their proposal story on the day I turned 32, with not even a single date scheduled on the horizon? It was a weird mix of love, bitterness, fear, and confusion. I initially teared up with self-pity, then, when I got my emotions in check, felt relief knowing that my parents are likely to have at least one grandchild. I thought about how I can be the cool aunt who helps my future niece put blue streaks in her hair or teaches my nephew how to curse in Spanish. Then I became sad, again, as I know that every year I add on the calendar makes these dreams less likely to happen for myself.
But for now, ALASKA, and more specifically, Alaska men. They deserve their own blog post. They do not disappoint.
As my friends partner up I am envious of the security they have but also sensitive to the benefits of being single- the stories I hear, the life lessons shared, the ability to wander off the beaten path and camp on a ferry deck with no responsibilities other than to myself. My years to have a child without that dreaded "Advanced Maternal Age" diagnosis code are dwindling, but on that boat I was blissfully aware of my baby-free status.
Then the ferry docked at a remote Alaskan port to pick up passengers, I turned on my cell phone, and a call came in.
It was my younger brother and his girlfriend. "Hey! We weren't sure if you had phone service but we wanted to call and say happy birthday!"
I was suspicious. My brother sounded nervous and I sensed another agenda.
"Also, we have some news to tell you... We're engaged!"
How on earth can I possibly describe, in writing, my reaction to my 29 year old sibling and his 27 year old fiancé telling me their proposal story on the day I turned 32, with not even a single date scheduled on the horizon? It was a weird mix of love, bitterness, fear, and confusion. I initially teared up with self-pity, then, when I got my emotions in check, felt relief knowing that my parents are likely to have at least one grandchild. I thought about how I can be the cool aunt who helps my future niece put blue streaks in her hair or teaches my nephew how to curse in Spanish. Then I became sad, again, as I know that every year I add on the calendar makes these dreams less likely to happen for myself.
But for now, ALASKA, and more specifically, Alaska men. They deserve their own blog post. They do not disappoint.
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