The American holiday Thanksgiving was a couple of weeks ago, as was my 25th birthday.

My birthday was the 22nd.
Thanksgiving was two days later.

One of my roommates from Spain posted this photo in her birthday message to me, a picture I had never seen of myself from our San Isidro celebrations.

I was very Thankful during Thanksgiving for this wee reminder of how happy I was in the city that I love.

• Thankful for literally the best holiday experience I’ve ever had (San Isidro) in a city I shared with a set of new, but so close, friends.
• Thankful I got to see THREE NIGHTS of the best fireworks I have ever seen.

Turning 25 has been one of the biggest  concerns of my life for the last three years, which sounds as ridiculous as it probably is. That doesn’t diminish that I well and truly feared twenty-five.
I feel like I have very little to show for having existed for a quarter of a century. This fotito reminded me that while I have no huge accolades to my name, I did spend a few magical months being the life of the party with a few other firecrackers in the city I have spent most of my life dreaming of.
San Isidro is Madrid’s patron saint and the week of his holy day is A PARTY through the whole city.
Every night on the weekend of his day there were fireworks.
I’m from the States. I know fireworks, right? NO.
Never in my life have I been so blown away by the choreography and intricacy of a lights show, and they were long. And the fireworks themselves came in patterns I hadn’t seen before. All of that was over the pond in Retiro Park.
Magical doesn’t begin to cover how that weekend felt. (I’ll do a whole post over the weekend, eventually.)

Getting sent this photo for my birthday brought up all those warm, bubbling memories of that weekend specifically.
Holidays are a huge deal to me, and seeing the Spanish celebrate with such vigor felt natural to me. One of the multi-fold reasons I felt native in a land that actually wasn’t mine.

My birthday is incredibly important to me.
Like, few things do I hold as dear to my heart as I do my birthday. It’s probably unhealthy, really.
I have quite high expectations for my birthday every year that are not met, and its just short of crushing. I need to adjust expectations, but I hold out that some day I will have a birthday party half as good as the ones I have thrown for others.

This mile-stone birthday happened with little to no fanfare.
I went to work, went home (to flowers and chocolate-covered strawberries, the highlight of my day), and then went to a quiet dinner with some dear, dear friends.
No sparkle, no shine, no cake nor champagne (though there was pie and whisky).
It wasn’t bad, and my expectations for a birthday have never been lower, so it was easily the most pleased I could have been with a birthday.
Even still, with some time in between now and then, it makes me feel a little sad that I’ve existed for 25 years and that wasn’t worth ringing some bells and throwing some glitter for.

But then there is this picture, a reminder that five months of my life were fanfare packed. Nights of running wild and days lounging in green grassy parks bustling with beautiful people. This picture reminded me that my loudness, brightness, and general YES DO IT NOW-ness was celebrated fully.
I felt celebrated fully in being reminded of this by someone who was there.
It felt wildly special for Keji to post this picture on my birthday.
And I was thankful.