With my father it seem like it has been ages since we had a talk. The last time I talked to him was on my 29th birthday. At 12 am sharp, I got a message from him saying, ‘thirty years ago….’, I couldn’t help the formation of a lump in my throat. Next morning when I called up and heard his voice over the phone, I couldn’t help tears either. But I was seriously surprised at the same time too. ‘Thirty’?! How on the earth could he go wrong with that?
Well, even though I’ve been feeling thirty since I was 27. but ‘thirty’, there’s yet another year for that.
And as far as I can remember it has been like ages before I turned 27. Back then I always wanted to be a 27. but now that I am past all that, I dread the thought of being a ‘thirty’. No. Never. I just don’t want to be.
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