by Patricia Rainford

Created on: November 05, 2008

"Don't trust anyone over thirty!"

I heard this phrase when I was a child. That's when I got the impression that there was something inherently wrong with people over thirty. My dad would constantly use the expression, "I'm too old for this!" It's strange how minute little things can shape your whole outlook as a child. A phrase here. A statement there. A pop and crack of bones coming from your parents every time they stood up. It's something that had been embedded into my subconscious.

I didn't think about it very much until last year when I turned 29. I thought with much sorrow that it would be the last year I could consider myself "in my twenties". When I told people how old I was, I made sure to add that yes, I was really 29, in case they thought I'd take a year or two off my age for the sake of vanity.

Then the day came when I woke up the morning of my birthday this past April and realized that I would be 30 that day. I refused to consider myself 30 until exactly 10:18am, the exact moment of my birth. Until then, I caught myself watching the clock intently, focusing on every minute that passed, thinking that if I watched the clock, maybe time would stop. Maybe I didn't have to be 30. Maybe, just maybe, if I focused long and hard enough, the time would never come and I could relish in 29 forever.

Tick tock.

10:19am.

I don't know what I expected to happen. Maybe I would disintegrate. Maybe I'd keel over with a heart attack. Perhaps the universe would implode. But there was nothing. No explosions, no nuclear meltdowns. I made sure no limbs had spontaneously fallen off and continued with my day. Maybe being 30 wouldn't be so bad after all! I felt good, I felt like myself, I felt ready to take on the world! I even graciously accepted the phone calls from friends and family wishing me a happy birthday.

That is, until the call from one of my younger sisters came in.

"Happy Birthday!" she said in a cheery voice. "Time flies, doesn't it?"

"Yup," I told her. "You know, I thought I'd be more depressed today. But I'm fine."

"Why would you be depressed?" she asked. "Now, NEXT year will be the depressing one. God, you'll be 30 next year!"

I got really quiet, the whole working-myself-up-for-the-day came tumbling down around me.

"Pam, are you still there?" she asked.

"Tami, I'm 30 this year. I'm 30 now!"

"Oh," she said. Her voice had become so tiny, I could barely hear her. "Sorry."

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