I’ve officially been on this earth for 3 decades.
It’s just crazy to me because, in my mind, I’m still this kid.
Or this one
Most especially this little weirdo
Man, that was quick.
In some ways, I still am that kid. I’m not here today to get all intro/retrospective about turning 30. I’ve learned things. I’ve had good and bad times. That’s what your 20s are for. There are two things short conversations I’ve had recently that I wanted to include in my birthday post because I feel like they sum up what I’m feeling perfectly.
The first one was with an Uber driver. Somehow my birthday came up and he asked me how old I was going to be (I didn’t even care. I guess I’m not a lady.) I told him thirty and he said “Ahh, thirty. It’s like entering a whole new world. You care less about certain things and life begins to fall into place in other ways. It’s a good age.” I smiled to myself and said, “You know, that’s exactly how it feels. It feels like I’m entering a different world.”
It’s true. I feel like I’m opening a door of new possibilities, attitudes, and experiences. I know they won’t happen or come overnight. I’m sure I didn’t wake up this morning a changed woman, but I feel like this is the beginning of something different.
On the other hand, let’s revisit this at 32 and see how I feel.
The other conversation happened about a week later and it was with my aunt’s best friend. They have known each other since college. They’ve been through almost every phase of life together. They have many lifetimes of friendship between them. Anyway, we were talking and again, somehow, my birthday came up. I told her about the Uber driver and the whole new world carpet ride I went on and I said, “I’m a little nervous because it was beginning to feel like I would never not be in my 20s.” She laughed a little bit and turned to my aunt and said: “Yea, we all felt like we would never not be in our 20s.” Then they started talking about how long they had each been married (48 & 50 years!) and just how fast (yet unbelievably slow) life moves.
Remember in elementary school you had journals? The teacher would put a prompt on the board and you would have to write or draw (or both) a response to that prompt. In first grade, we had journals and one of the prompts was “Where will you be when you’re 30?” Maybe it was my teacher’s birthday and she needed a laugh only the innocence of a child could give. Maybe it had to do with what we were learning. Whatever.
My answer to “Where will you be when you’re 30?” was… and you’ll just have to believe me because try as I might I cannot find this journal for the life of me. If I do, you know I will post it immediately.
When I’m 30, I’ll be in my limo in my wheelchair with my husband.
(or maybe I said with my other friends. I’m old now, my memory is escaping me.)
I thought thirty meant #nursinghomestatus. Turning thirty was unfathomable to six year old me. PEOPLE LIVE THAT LONG? THEY MUST BE ANCIENT. No matter that my parents were both 42 at the time. I also thought thirty meant rich. Or maybe that having a husband meant having money. I’m starting to think that I thought that I would be six forever and having a husband just meant living with an adult who isn’t related to me. i sense a theme here.
Well, here I am. thirty years old- no husband, no limo, and (thankfully) no wheelchair.
Here’s to thirty and the decade that comes with it. May it be filled with laughter, love, good health, and to never stop being a Native American cheerleader.