So, I'm 27 now. It's not such a big deal. Steve says I'm "officially old" now that I have reached the whopping age of 27. I think the fact that it's semi-knocking on 30's door is what causes the slight palpitation in my heart. But, now, looking at life, thirty isn't such a big deal....forty, now that's something to wince about.
Who really cares about age?
The history of the excitement over aging:
15-Yay, I can get a learner's permit and scare my parents and every other human who comes within remote distance of the car I am driving.
16-I'm officially a holder of the driver's license--which in my case didn't matter to a hill of beans because I had no car, my mother drove a van at the time, and my father drove (and still does, bless his heart) a standard, 1985 Toyota pick-up truck.
18--I can....buy cigarettes OR join the military...no thanks, I'll pass.
20-Alright! I'm no longer a teenager. Hmmmm, that means I can no longer blame the stupid things I do on the fact that I am indeed a teenager...crap.
**random tangent: I can remember my best friend, Lauren, calling me the weekend before she was to turn 20...she was freaking out,and it was hilarious.
21-Yes, bartender, I'll have a whatchamadoodle with a splash of something disgustingly fruity. And boy did I. Blech.
25-For some reason I was excited about twenty-five. Maybe I finally felt like I had "grown up" and left my silly, immature days behind me. That doesn't hold true though, because there are still many days when I find myself wondering how on Earth I arrived to a certain present moment in time and still
felt like some sort of juvenile.
26-
27-
...*crickets*
Now I know there will come a time when aging will become exciting again....AARP card, anyone?
But, I think that the many years in between are just calendars to be crossed off. Time that I will spend living and doing and becoming.
And I'm ok with that.
