Chaos in the Backyard

Last night at dinner, my family surprised me with something I honestly didn’t see coming.

For my 40th birthday this summer, my sister (and my family) gifted me an inclusive girls trip to Jamaica.

I just sat there for a second trying to process it. Not even because of the trip itself, but because of what it meant. The thought behind it. The intention. The fact that they all came together to do something like that for me.

It caught me off guard, but in the best way.

The note that made me cry (in the quiet way)

My sister also wrote me a really sweet letter.

She talked about how she knows I give so much and do so much. How I’m always taking care of everyone else. And how, for my birthday, she wanted to give me something that I wouldn’t give myself.

She said she knew I wanted Disney magic for my 40th, and while she wasn’t wrong, she chose something different on purpose.

An island.

Because outside of a few cruises, I’ve never really flown somewhere and stayed on one island like this. Just slowed down in one place.

And she wanted me to have that experience.

Why Jamaica means something more

She also chose an island for a reason that relaly got me. That really meant something.

Our dad was a fearless traveler. He’d been all over. Sometimes with a group, often by himself. We grew up hearing his stories about traveling to places to Tijuana and Jamaica and always going off the beaten path instead of sticking to the tourist areas. Fishing and ski trips. Our dad went to Jamaica before we were born, and we grew up listening to him talk about how much fun he had. We had Jamaican money he brought back with him, and we used to play with it as little kids.

I came across the money once, as an adult, during one of our moves. But, I honestly hadn’t thought about that in years, outside of that one time finding it.

But reading her note brought all of that back, those small memories I tucked away.

It made the gift feel even more personal. Like it wasn’t just about where I’m going… it was also about where I come from.

Turning 40 feels like this

My birthday isn’t even until the end of July.

Forty sounds big, old, when you say it out loud. But I don’t feel like I’m stepping into a new chapter.

It feels more like I’m standing right in the middle of my book of life. Where there are run on sentences. Incomplete thoughts, and sometimes a choose your own ending section.

And then something like this happens and reminds me that I’m still me in all of it too. It brings back that feeling of being a little girl again, playing with her father’s souvenir money with her little sister.

Not just the one holding everything together for everyone else.

Grateful doesn’t feel like enough

I keep coming back to that word. Grateful.

Grateful for my sister’s love.
For my family thinking of me like this.
For the memories of a little girl tied into something I never expected to be part of my 40th birthday.

It’s not lost on me how special this is.

Right now, it’s still a trip on the calendar. I have a resort to research and learn about. Excursions to pick. Themed party nights to buy outfits and pack for.

But I know it means more than that. Not just because of where we’re going.

But because of the way it started, at a dinner table, with a note that brought back my dad, my childhood, and a lot of old memories all at once.