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As I approached my 30th birthday a few years back, I began to get really excited.  It wasn’t just for the party…


…but more for the number itself.  I was so excited to leave my 20’s behind!  Most of my friends dreaded passing into a new decade, but not I.

It’s not that my twenties were bad.  On the contrary, I had a wonderful time in college, met the man of my dreams, had a great marriage and two healthy children.  What I would not miss about those years, however, was the attitude from some people who had long ago left that age behind.  I cannot tell you the number of times I heard a variation of the phrase, “Oh, well, you’ll understand when you’re older.”  By the time I’d reached 28, I was well sick of it.  I suppose the fact that I look younger than my age doesn’t help, but I was convinced that I would stop receiving those patronizing comments once I was in my thirties.

And I did.  Who knows why – perhaps it was my own attitude that staved them off.  Regardless, I find myself happily ensconced in the middle of a decade that sees me neither a young, inexperienced girl, nor yet middle-aged.  I am looking forward to my forties just as happily (although not at all wishing the intervening years away), because I see that there is nothing as ineffectual in life as wishing you were in the past, or younger than you are.  I cannot wait to see what the years ahead bring.

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