I’m 38

Today, I turned 38.

Thirty-eight found me bouncing around in the trunk of a buggy speeding down roads that even God Himself seemed to have forgotten.

I came across a snake.

A big one.

And for a split second, I almost reached for my phone to capture the “wowww” moment.

Then I remembered—just in time—that I’m far from Lithuania,

where you can always shrug off a slithering creature with,
“Oh, it’s just a grass snake.”

I saw plump lizards,

who seem to have forgotten they live in the present, not millions of years ago.

They didn’t run away from us on four legs—

they sprinted on two.

I’d never seen anything like it.

I stood in awe of the dazzling blue stretching to the horizon,

a shade of blue so breathtaking that even the French Riviera would have reason to envy it.

I wound my way along tracks so rugged

that on the steep climbs, gripping with both hands somehow turned into the feeling that I was clinging on with my toenails too.

I’m 38.

And today, holding all of this close—

among snakes, lizards, endless blue, and impossible hills—

I realized I wouldn’t trade this embrace

for being 18.

Or even 28.

Back then, I was afraid of so many things.

Today, I am brave.

Brave enough, first and foremost,

to be myself.

Thank you for all your birthday wishes!

I am a child of happiness.

What a gift it is

to have lived long enough to receive so many of them.

V.