…of a century year old?! Yikes-a-bee!
I am officially turning the big 2-5 in three days. How in the world did that happen? It seems like it was just yesterday that I was just a mere hands’ (instead of the five, count ‘em FIVE) years-old worth of fingers, getting blocks thrown at my head during playtime in kindergarten–I’ve got to hand it to him, little Tommy Layton had quite the arm…and aim. It’s crazy how time flies!
Turning another year older, another year wiser isn’t really a huge deal to me. I am no longer young enough to dream about getting older, wanting desperately to graduate from the kids’ menu, drive a car and drink a cold Coors Light. Legally. The big deal about turning 25? Well…I can finally rent a car (which I don’t know about you, but I have been waiting and waiting to do so!). On the flip side, I am not yet old enough to dread adding another year to my age, another wrinkle, another cracking joint. I have a good long ways to go until I do that. But you know what, even when I finally get to that point, I think I will embrace it with open arms, making like Kelly and handling it with Grace. It may not be as monumental of an event, but it did get me to think of my past 25 years. What I learned. What I have yet to learn. My experiences and my hopes for the next 25 years.
Let me give you an example: When you’re 25-ish, you’re old enough to know what kind of music you love, regardless of what your last boyfriend or roommate always used to play (From Eminem to Styx, I am all over the place!). You know how to walk in heels (wobbly, very wobbly), how to tie a necktie (yes, but aren’t clip-ons so much easier fellas?), how to give a good toast at a wedding (To my best friend…) and how to make something for dinner (preferably something not Spaghettio or Hot Pocket related).
You should know how to fall in love without losing yourself.
At 25, you should acknowledge that you can’t change the length of your legs, the width of your hips or the nature of your parents. You should know the names of the current Secretary of State, your Great-Grandmas and your local ice cream truck driver (hi Mr. Gomez!). You should know who you can trust, who you can’t and how not to take it personally. By 25, you should know your favorite kind of pizza (Pepperoni please), your favorite way to eat eggs (Hard boiled or scrambled) and your favorite late-night snack (Anything having to do with ice cream. And cookies. And cookies in ice cream).
You don’t have to think much about skin care, home ownership or your retirement plan. Your life can look a lot of different ways when you’re 25: single, dating, engaged, married. You are working in dream jobs, pay-the-bills jobs and downright horrible jobs. You are young enough to believe that anything is possible, and you are old enough to make that belief a reality.
Turning 25 may not be reason to schedule a presidential address, but you know what, it is kind of cool. Thinking back on those 25 years, my 25 years, a lot has happened. Great things. Not so great things. Things that I want to remember and things that I would rather forget. But it was all of those things that have gotten me to the place that I am now, a smart, ambitious, silly, head-in-the-clouds dreaming, Styx-listening, wobbly-heal walking, ice cream-eating, optimistic gal who can’t wait to see what is going to happen next.
Now that I think is something to celebrate!
With even (hopefully) one of these
Hope you all are having a great Sunday friends!
Question of the day: Birthdays: are you a fan?