28 Too Late


(I have a thing for insanely gorgeous wrapping paper.)

I turned twenty eight years old this May, and the last few years I’ve become one of those people who forgets their age.  I truly have to think for a moment before I say I’m 27 and then realize, oh wait, I just turned 28.  I’m grateful that my twenties lasted as long as they did and that I still have two years to go.  But I’ve also grown so much in only 2 years, and it’s scary how change happens so quickly.

Remember this?  I’ve abandoned some of them, such as taking hourly pictures on my birthday, gardening, and road tripping to Arizona with B.  I will definitely garden and road trip, but it’s no longer a goal of mine in the next two years.  I’m pushing myself in new ways, and settling into being 28.  It’s strange how some ages require that settling period – a period of putting two feet on the ground, sitting in silence imagining what you want in life, and cutting out the last shreds of negativity that somehow seep into our presence.  I’m not scared of what’s to come.




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