My Cardboard Balcony

Welp. It's official: I turned twenty-nine yesterday. I had a lovely day with the wifey - we got milkshakes downtown, she made me dinner, we watched Grace and Frankie, we ate storebought cupcakes. I got some nice gifts from both my wife and my in-laws, and I'm planning on seeing my parents and my brother on Sunday for more celebration. I obviously don't feel any different at twenty-nine than I did at twenty-eight, or twenty-seven. It's wonderful to think about how far I've come, though. I've been together with my wife for more than seven years, married for over a year and a half. I've completed my first year as a public high school teacher, as well as my first year of induction (out of two, in order to clear my credential). I've continued to create, add to, and revise writing projects. I've gone to the gym more and shed a lot of weight. I got my teeth cleaned for the first time in almost three years! I feel a lot lighter (literally and figuratively)

Sea Relic by Belinda Roddie She was twenty-nine, and the barnacles had begun to form.

I tried to trust him. I tried to believe him. He told me he was set for life. He told me that his job was stable, that he'd quit drinking, that he was paying attention to his friends and family again. I let him back into my life because I thought he'd gotten better. Not cured, but rehabilitated. I trusted  him on that. But three weeks later, he was unemployed. He came home with a bottle of gin and drank the whole thing in one sitting. Then he closed himself up in the spare bedroom and didn't talk to me for two days.