Thirty Eve

Today is the last day of my 20s.

I’m not really one to freak out over such things, but I have to admit that it’s kind of surreal. My age has begun with a “twenty” for quite some time now. Twenty-one… Twenty-five… Twenty-nine. And tomorrow, it’ll just be… thirty.

30.

How different.

I think I’ve accomplished everything I always dreamed of accomplishing in the decade of my 20s. I graduated college. I’ve been gainfully employed–in three different jobs–within a career that I really enjoy most of the time. I met and married a good man. I bought and sold a condo. I had a beautiful baby, thus becoming a mother. I bought a house. I’ve taken many vacations and spent many hours laughing with good friends and family.

It’s been a good decade, y’all.

I know that thirty is not old. To an 8-year-old–or even an 18-year-old–yes. But in the grand scheme of life, thirty is still very much young. In my eyes, I have nothing to complain about. Still, it is odd to remember so well things that happened in high school and realize that it was 12-15 years ago. Or reminisce with a friend how our friendship first began in 7th grade social studies class and realize that was 18 years ago. Or how first grade was 24 years ago. I mean, how is that even possible?

I had a coworker tell me today that thirty is when you really figure it all out. “Thirty is when true confidence comes,” she told me. In that way, thirty feels empowering.

I don’t know what the next decade will bring. All I know is that when I think back on the transition from my teens into my twenties, and compare it to now… life has changed. A lot. So I can’t even begin to imagine what “Forty Eve” will look like, ten years from this moment. I have much to look forward to. In that way, my thirties sound exciting.

I’ve tried to bid a fond farewell to 29. I kept trying to think of an excuse to say, “I’m 29” today–for one last time–but it wasn’t easy to work it naturally into conversation. So you know what?

I’m 29.

And tomorrow, I’ll be 30.