It’s my birthday today which means I get to do what I want. So while my husband runs to the grocery store to pick up a small birthday cake, I’m blogging.
As my birthday approached this year, I thought about the number. Twenty-nine. There’s nothing too special about it, except that it’s a year closer to the “big 3-0.” For some people, launching into the next decade is scary – thirties, forties, fifties, and so on.
Not for me. For some reason, I can’t wait to be older. Maybe it’s because I’ve always felt older than I am chronologically. Not in the my-body-is-decrepit sort of way. The whole “old soul” thing. That’s me. My age is trying to catch up with my soul.
But I will say that my 29th year is bringing with it some questions, big and small.
The smaller ones being things like:
Will I really get back into yoga and stick with it? (Maybe it’s an excuse to buy more yoga pants and wear them every. single. day.)
Will I let my hair grow long and not cut it off? (I hope so.)
Will I find a way to shave my legs so that they stay smooth for longer than a day? (Not likely.)
And then the bigger ones which I don’t have easy answers to:
Will I be able to find a “just right” job again?
Will I ever again feel comfort and confidence in my career?
Am I old enough yet for this meme to apply?
And then this one:
Will 29 be the year that I become a mom?
(Pause for a moment of silence.)
Well, on that note, my old soul is about to enjoy some birthday cake.