I wrote this over a month ago, I guess it’s time to publish it!
That’s from a country song I used to know. (And to be honest, if I thought about it hard enough, I’d probably still remember every word.) But it’s true. I remember thinking 30 would be forever away and, man, I’d be old then. But here I am, turning 30, and I’m not old. Not really at all.
On some level, I suppose I’m a little sad about turning 30. Like, I’ll never be a 20 something again. And a lot of great things happened in my 20’s. I went to college. I got married. We bought a house. I started my career. We had a baby. We had another baby. We bought another house. I made a lot of great friends. I’ve been to lots of fun places.
But truth be told, I’m also kind of relieved. I feel like it adds some credibility to my life to be 30. Somehow, I’m seen as more mature and wise. More capable. I’ve got some experience under my belt. People ask me for my advice. Like, I’m officially a real adult now. Maybe I was just born an “old soul” as they call it, but I’ve always valued maturity and wisdom. Maybe it’s my pride and self-righteousness that says immaturity is unappealing. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m a first born and all that comes with that. Or maybe I’m just boring.
I’m not sure what it is, but I think my 30’s are going to be pretty great too. I’m looking forward to them, even maybe the gray hairs (which I don’t think I have yet, by the way). Here’s to 30.