My birthdays, more so than New Years, are my fresh start. Like a new semester. A new chapter. Or maybe a new book. I am starting this trip around the sun as the same, but also a different, Jan. I will always be Jannie, Jan Michelle, Uppy, even Janna Yumbo. Everyone who called me Uppy is gone. But I’m still her. The little chubby cheeked, freckled nose girl stretching her arms up impatiently calling out “Uppy Uppy Uppy!” I was Jan Michelle when I was in trouble-a short, curt “Jan Michelle!” spoken with sharp edges and stomping feet. But Jan Michelle occasionally received tender greeting cards and notice in moments of congratulations- like winning an award, graduating from college, having a baby. I can hear it, said softly, with a smile and no sharp edges, “Jan Michelle…” It’s those moments that I love my name the most. Jannie. Most know her but only few say her name, Jannie. I love being with those people. They’ve either known me all of my days or feel like they have. Jannie is perky and optimistic and has energy for days- like 3 cups of coffee energy. My default state of being is Jannie. Y’all are wondering about Janna Yumbo. If you know, you know. If you don’t, you won’t. She’s a bit of a mess truthfully. I tried to leave her behind and I’ve come to realize that I cannot. I’m proud of her. She’s more than she ever thought she could be. We’re beginning this year, 50++++, together, like a small gang. We kinda cute with our extra ways, extra pounds, our fine lines, sunflower eyes and our schwoopy bangs. I want to put it out into the world that this is going to be a great year of great growth and great accomplishments. I want to say that, to claim that with confidence. But I’m more comfortable saying, yeah, 54 is here. I’ll cheers to it, to me and I’ll do my best to take care of all of me.
