It was my birthday yesterday. I am 33 years old now and so far, so good. I've said it before, but I'll say it again: I really like my 30's. I'm so glad to be free of the angst that haunted my teens and twenties. Whoever I was going to be, I already am, or am not. I am me, and I have always been me. What I do for a living isn't what makes me me. What ever I was going to do, I know if I get to it, I'll enjoy it more, not looking for the ultimate moment, and whether I do it or not, it won't define me, it will just be a path I walked down for awhile.
The days are glorious in parts, hard in others, sad, and joyful, boring and thrilling. I have to remind myself to be present. To stop time for a moment and look around. To not get swept away in the raging current of life, dishes, laundry, projects, work, and bills. To relish little hands, and little feet, and little teeth. Furry pets and glorious sunrises, sweet kisses from my fuzzy Geek, good conversation, sweet alone time. I was made to be in this moment, to know how much I am loved. So bring on this 33rd year (technically 34th year in the world - if you think about it). It's just getting better.
1 comment:
I really needed to hear this this morning. Thanks for giving me a present for your birthday. I was just feeling out of sorts instead of created and loved. Happy 33rd, friend.
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