It's my birthday. I turn 28. And, while I don't feel old, I feel like I've lived a long life. I have friends who are horrified that they get a little older each year, but isn't that the point of living?
Isn't the point to eventually say to someone, "When I was your age..." and feel like you're a small well of wisdom? For me, a lot of this comes with being an only child and raised around adults. I heard stories and hoped to one day have a drawer full of my own. And, after a measly almost 28 years on this planet, I think I have quite a few.
I joke with my students all the time that I'm not old. And it's simply because I'm not. I'm unbelievably young. At 27, my mother had just met my father. I wouldn't come for another four years. Mind you, things were different in the late 70's and early 80's, but still. I kind of look at my mom as a trailblazer in that sense. She waited.
And here I am. At 28, I'm accomplished. I'm successful. Yes, I don't have a partner in this life (at the moment). And yes, I don't have children (I have 120 students to be discussed at another time). But, I don't think it's worth freaking out over (just yet).
With a little patience and a little grace, getting older is kind of nice. Maybe I'll change my tune when I get closer to 40. But for now, I'm starting to think 28 is going to be a good year (sung to the tune of The Who's "1921") maybe with a few surprises too. Who knows?
It's going to be good friends. Not just good. Amazing.
Just give me one year...
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