There are two things that I always think of whenever her birthday comes: 1) we are finally at the same age for six months, and 2) that I’d be getting a year older than her in six months.

She just turned 29 today. And for 13 long years we’ve been having this age banters whenever one of us celebrates her birthday. Has it been that long? We used to think 20 was too old when we were teens. Then years and birthdays had come and gone and we woke up to this day realizing that, geez, we’re getting old, aren’t we?

But who’s counting years and ages, right? I think this is the slime excuse of people getting older — count me as one. When one ages, she forgets the number on her birthday cake. Not because of vanity. But because as one gets older, she realizes that age is just a number. Life isn’t defined by it. When you think about the years that has passed, you see a very different you. And I hope that every time, you see a better and better version of yourself, year after year.

Age with grace, my dear. Happy birthday!