I remember the day we met. I was scared, and anxious, and excited and generally thought I knew everything.
With you, I learned to travel, I learned all about really good wine and even better whiskey. I gained a few too many pounds and lost them in turn. I lived in places I loved and hated, sometimes at the same time. If you could collect all my tears from our time together, maybe drought conditions wouldn't have seemed so dire.
I fell in and out of love, and in between found and developed deep and beautiful friendships. There are some folks I knew before this all started who are no longer here, and I miss them. There were days and weeks and months I went without hugs from my family; it taught me to value our time together.
As we went along, I accepted that my thighs are big — there is no way around this fact. I read a lot of Jane Austen and not enough Ernest Hemingway, but I think there will be time for Hemingway. I discovered the pain of not being able to stop laughing, and simultaneously the importance of laughing every day.
You taught me how to manage my procrastinating nature, and reminded me that I'm fiercely interested in world affairs. You helped frame my political and religious beliefs, and showed me that understanding the roots of these beliefs helps create a little more life foundation.
I've understood the things I will never be: mean, taller, unemotional, French, a professional (or amateur) ballerina, a poet.
I've understood the things I will always be: assertive, attentive, brown-eyed, compassionate, working on, among other parts, my abs.
These lists could go on, but I've learned to be more concise in our time together. All of this has ended here: today you delivered me at the front door of another adventure. You tried and tested me, and with some divine intervention and some good ol' fashion luck, I made it through. I don't wish I had another trip around the sun with you or more time for sun salutations — I am grateful for all the shaping, and tugging, and pulling, and training you provided that readied me. It is gratitude that floods me with the need to cry for all the wonder we shared, and simultaneously fills me with confidence that this — I can absolutely do this. Thank you for getting me this far.
Thirties, it's nice to meet you. I wonder what we'll go through together that I will be lucky enough to reflect on in this next decade. I'm so glad to be here.
Trysha Daskam is becoming a New Yorker, but retains the need to wave at strangers and will absolutely hug you when she meets you. She is a recreational writer by night, typically in the form of thank-you notes, and a (unapologetic) finance professional by day. She is most often found with French café music in her earbuds — it encourages beauty to show itself in unexpected ways — even when looking at spreadsheets! Find her version of New York on Instagram @tryshann.
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