I remember turning 21.
Sort of.
I was at university for a summer term, living in the Columbia Lake Townhouses with Roger, Ed, and Brian. It was a Friday, and I only know that thanks to the internet.
All I really remember of the say was: I was old. And I could drink if I went to the USA, which I wasn’t going to, since I neither drank at the time nor had any money to travel abroad.
Today marks my 21st anniversary being married to Alex. All I can really think is: already??
Don’t get me wrong, we celebrated 20 years last year (obviously), and that was a huge milestone. But there’s something about the number 21. And it’s not even the drinking age south of the border. It’s the product of two primes (and the sum of the numbers 1-6, inclusive), a rather famous card game of chance, and there’s a cannonical salute.
I think it’s more that “21” has been engrained in our (western) culture as having significance, especially if you’re familiar with the United States and their Federal drinking age and grew up watching US television.
Dearest Alex, I know this year has been hard for you. I know that our anniversary is passing with little fanfare for a whole host of reasons. I hope you’re able to reflect on it in your own way. All the same:
Happy 21st Anniversary!