When I was twenty three, I married El Senor. I also had Baby Gurl eight months later. Due to complications she came five weeks early. I’m not really sure why, but over the next few years, I could not remember how old I was. I broke my ankle when I was twenty five. At the immediate care, (That’s a story for another day, maybe a venting day) the nurse asked me how old I was, I said twenty three. El Senor looked at me and said, “No you’re not!” I swore I was, then did the math and sure enough, twenty five.
I have a birthday coming up. I’ll admit, I’m not looking forward to it. I make the joke when people I barely know are rude enough to ask how old I am, I’ll say, “I’m twenty nine. . . And I’ve been twenty nine for six years.” They laugh and I cringe. Why do we rush the years when we are younger dreaming of the day we will be the grown up, and then once the day arrives, we dread it and want to turn back time. It’s because even though childhood is fun, it’s not freedom. Adult hood is freedom, but with responsibilities. I think we really spend much of our time wishing for another time, when what we really should do is just be. Be in that moment. I should enjoy my few gray hairs, it’s not like they are going to go away, in fact they are going to grow friends. I should appreciate my few smile lines. After all I’ve earned them from having a life of laughter and happiness. And those “Frown lines” aren’t frown lines at all, but rather concentration lines.
That being said, I wouldn’t trade this past year for a hundred years as twenty nine. I’ve grown in so many ways that I didn’t believe was possible. I’ve received clarity, and am finding my way. With growing and clarity comes the aches and pains associated with such change. I don’t know what tomorrow holds, and that’s OK. I do know more changes are on the horizon. I look forward to 2014.