I genuinely like birthdays. I like the idea that everyone has their special day and unlike Mother’s Day, it’s an opportunity to celebrate individuals. Even my co-workers know it’s my birthday, and they know because I’ve told them. But, to be honest, this is really the first birthday where the number has bothered me just a little bit. 35.
Now, I know 35 isn’t old. And even if it were, it’s just a number. I know many people reading this are older than 35, and it’s annoying to hear someone younger than you complain about being old. I find it annoying when people have a hard time with 30. For me, I looked to my 30s as a new beginning, a fresh start. I was newly engaged and still looking for fulfilling career-minded work. I knew things were going to get better, and they did.
At 35 I still have so much to look forward to. Adelaide is just a year old, and Tim is now the one looking for fulfilling career-minded work. I know we are being watched over, and that things will continue to get better. It’s just that when I think about 35 and what I used to think a 35-year-old should be, I don’t see that reflected in who I am today. But I guess that’s a good thing. Great even! I feel like I’m still 30, but maybe a little wiser.
To another year and new beginnings!
When my mom drove out for Adelaide’s birthday I had her bring me a few photos from my first birthday, August 17, 1978.