Yesterday I turned 36.
Thirty six.
36!!
Ya know who’s 36? Adults.
I remember when my mom was 36. Damn, she was old. At 36 she was widowed with 5 kids, the oldest of which was 16. I was 14.
But here’s the thing…. I feel really good about being 36. It feels like an important age. Like, when I was 15, 16 seemed like and important age. At 17, it was 18. At 19, 21. And after that, well, I didn’t really have an important age in my 20’s. I thought, at first, 24 would feel important. Like that was in my mind, the age of official entry into adulthood. Like, an appropriate age to start thinking about marriage. It wasn’t. Then I thought it would be 27. Nope. That wasn’t it either.
Somehow, 36 feels like an age I should have been looking forward to. It feels like a year when good stuff’s gonna happen…
…Maybe this should be the year I start lying about my age?
Hmmmm…. that’ll never work.
