What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re thirtynine, you’re also thirtyeight, and twentysix, and fifteen, and ten, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your thirtyninth birthday you expect to feel thirtynine, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today. And you don’t feel thirtynine at all. You feel like you’re still thirtyeight.
And you are—underneath the year that makes you thirtynine.