[Hold narrative here. The terms "girlfriend" and "boyfriend" are all but eliminated from the Australian lexicon and replaced by the term "partner". Long term partners are also called "de factos". As I like Donna, none of these clinically sterile terms shall I use. Henceforth, she shall just be Donna.]
It was a nice little party in the very recently finished backyard of the "renovator's dream" Brian has been chiseling into a home for the last 12 years. Friends, neighbors, kids, hippies and the august were there to wish her well, eat lots of good nibbles and sip on champagne. After the contemporary bit of art doubling as chocolate birthday cake had been presented, people called for a speech. Donna became teary eyed as she figured her last twenty years weren't as nice as her next twenty shaped up to be now that she had little Natie and Brian.A table groaned under fancy presents all making my jar of homemade jam look lame.
It all seemed a bit much for an adult birthday that didn't come with "the keys to the house." Kevin's 40th was a big deal for his family and they collected lots of money to give him which, in turn, paid for our hot air balloon ride. I thought he did rather well by me when I presented him with his long dreamed of yellow Ferrari. (Parks very nicely in a matchbox size garage, thank you.) It's rather an Australian thing. Eighteen, twenty-one or thirty aren't real hallmarks of adulthood or maturity. "Forty. It's the new 21," explained Kev and echoed by some of the ladies I was chatting with. Indeed, Donna will be going back home to Adelaide later this month to celebrate this momentous occasion with her family.
So now I have something to look forward to in a dozen or so years when I turn 40. ahem.
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