And may you stay forever young...

I’m 25 now. And despite the reassurance that I don’t look 25 (what does 25 look like?) and that others have had the best year of their life at 25, I’m still not fully on board. Maybe because I’m still looking at myself with young eyes, and when I was younger, 25 was adult, and aside from paying bills and working every day, I still just don’t feel “adult.” Maybe because at 25, most of our parents were married with at least one kid. And the 1980’s weren’t that long ago, so I don’t feel like it’s an antiquated tradition. Maybe because I thought I’d be a little more important at work by 25, or at least doing something I liked.  And I realize this sometimes doesn’t even happen for people until they’re 50, but, in my head, it was supposed to be a bit more glamorous than this.

But when I write out these maybes, I start to think about how much has changed for the better, even in just the short time since I’ve been in my 20’s. Since I’ve been 20 I’ve met the person I’m spending the rest of my life with. It may not be officially declared (you know, on Facebook), or staring at you from my left hand just yet, but, it’s true. On top of that, I’ve met my best friends, I’ve graduated college, I’ve gotten a legitimate job in my field, I’ve made friends at that legitimate job so I don’t have to eat lunch alone, I’ve cooked things and not burnt down the house, I’ve raised, taken care of and housetrained a puppy (okay, so Mike did a lot of that, but, I play with him and get up to let him out!), and I’ve been on a hell of a lot of adventures.

So maybe I am an adult? And maybe it’s not so bad. You could be right, people that love/loved 25. This year could have some killer potential...

But I’m still listening to Bob on loop. And I’m still not saying my age out loud JUST yet. J