So maybe it's because I have been watching seasons of 80s dramedies on Netflix, and maybe partially because N is finally sleeping well and I have the mental space to think about things a little, but basically I have been thinking about what it will be like to Turn Thirty.
Thirty Thirty Thirty. In some ways it seems so young. I feel like I'm almost forty, not almost thirty. There have been so many events in my life already, I feel lucky to only be looking at thirty, with so much already under my belt.
And in other ways, I feel like I was just 22, 18, 15, 12, 6, 3. And simultaneously glad that I am no longer any of those ages.
Then, it's time to think of some other goals. I had an unofficial list of things I wanted to do during my twenties, and it went something like this, if I remember it from my fevered zealous nineteen-year-old brain:
-Married by 23
-Kid by 25
-Go to Europe
In real life I didn't make it to Europe but I honestly let that one go -- this decade has turned out to be a lot more about relationships than places. Other than that, I hit my marks pretty close -- married by 24, kid by 26, grad degree, and I have sort of published, if an online group blog counts. It's semi-official. I have submitted my first story for consideration for publication. I 100% (okay, 98%) expect a rejection, but I am proud of myself for putting it out there. And when I get the rejection notice from the first place, I'll find somewhere else to send it. And keep writing other things as I have time.
But none of these specifics really matter; instead I feel like the important thing is, I feel like I can stand behind my work of the past ten years. It was not graceful, in fact it was usually very un-graceful, but I pushed forward and have actually made some really nice, pleasing progress. Enough progress to consider sitting back and smiling on my life as it is now, for the afternoon of my birthday. Which is not for another 7 months, but I might as well start getting ready for it. :)