I am thirty five today. 35. Somehow that does seem older. 23 seems young, 26 or 27 seems youngish. 32 or 33, still early 30s. 35 is half way to 40, old enough to run for president and old enough to know better. 35 means another wrinkle or two appears, more crow's feet. It means feeling softer and advanced maternal age. It means people start looking at you as older, out of the 30-34 racing group, out of the coveted 18-34 demographic. It means...35.
I don't have children, and I may never have children. I have a "career" and a mortgage and I need a new house. It means I haven't taken enough vacations, and I haven't had enough fun as a young 'un, and can't change that fact.
35 means being a bit more grown up, and being okay with that, because you cannot turn back the clock. It means being able to enjoy a good steak dinner and still be able to rally tomorrow and run five miles, and go grocery shopping and go look at houses and get ready for a brunch. It means all of those things.
Happy 35th birthday to me. How did I ever get to be 35? I remember turning four! I remember thinking at 5, my birthday should now be on the 5th, as logic had it, right?! It means remembering turning 18, 17 years ago! It means celebrating another birthday in DC, almost as many birthdays here (14) as I celebrated in Michigan (18). It means half way to 40 and half way to 70.
Happy birthday, 35th birthday, to me. 36 doesn't seem as bad, does it?
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