Oh, 29. You’re almost here!
I am one day away from the age that I will remain forever. Or, so I’ve been told. I know this to be somewhat accurate because several of my family members and friends turned 29 and aged no more.
Sure, there are specific days each year on which we commemorate their births and remember the labours of their mothers and eat cake, but there’s never any discussion of age or aging. Only the sounds of shushing. Sh. Shhh. Shhhh! SHHHH!
I haven’t really given much thought to turning 29 or remaining so forever. I was always told that 25 is the last big hurrah in life, especially when it comes to birthdays, and that the following years just meld together. That seems kinda true so far. Twenty-eight was like 27 was like 26.
Of course, my last two birthdays involved my husband, so I’d elevate them way up. And, 26 landed me a swimming-pool cake. That was very special. Hhhmmm. It would seem that my birthdays are getting better and better with age. That can’t be a bad thing.
I’m not entirely sure that aging is as terrible as society has made it out to be. Besides, these days a person can always look 29, right? Do I really want to spend my entire life in my late 20s? Um, no. Thinking big-picture, 29 seems a bit on the short side for stopping and staying put. What about all the other ages? Like 30 and 33 and 36 and 41 and 57 and 62 and 75 and everything in-between and beyond? Those are a lot of years just begging to be explored, enjoyed and lived. Way too many to simply stay at 29.
I like exploring and enjoying and living. So, I think I’ll give 29 its 365 days and then move on. Which means I’m not really one day from forever. More like one day from the rest of life.