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Twenty-nine years ago my mom was hella pregnant. The end of July is not a good time to be pregnant. And from what Mom tells me, it’s definitely not a good time to be two weeks overdue. Especially when it’s in the middle of a heat streak.

Twenty-nine years ago my mom made a huge pot of spaghetti and helped herself to a sizable dish of it, only to start getting contractions as she was finishing up, making her feel sicker than she’d felt all of the pregnancy.

Twenty-nine years ago I got stuck in the birth canal, wedged in at an angle that was nearly fatal to both Mom and me, causing an emergency C-section to be done.

Twenty-nine years ago, at 1:12 am, I came into the world, a drama queen from the beginning, a diva demanding to be seen and heard. My mom calls today her day that a miracle occured. I call today my birthday.

 

(Thanks, Mom, for enduring such a harsh pregnancy and for giving me such an incredible gift!)

Green Grass Grows

The air was warm and the top to the Mustang GT was down. Soon we were zipping down the country highway, the rough wind whipping my hair everywhere. I could feel the late evening air on my bare arms as I stretch them into the sky and laughed. Tim McGraw lyrics blasted through the stereo’s speakers:

“I’m gonna live where the green grass grows
Watch my corn pop up in rows…
Plant our dreams where the peaceful river flows
Where the green grass grows…”

Fields of corn and acres of farmland surrounded me as the music swirled in my mind.  I felt happy. Centered. Free. No worries clouded my mind. Right in the middle of Missouri, in a convertible with my best friend, as we navigated the narrow road to a county fair on a hot July night, I was whole. Beautiful. Magic.  The whole sky seemingly stretched before me with glittering stars and a full, orange moon–it was simply perfect. I felt infinite. The world was mine. My life is truly charmed.