|dinner at capital grille|
It's really strange to turn 30. I remember the surprise party our family had for my dad when he turned 30. I remember him coming home from work and being really excited when he walked in the door. Our house was packed with people, and the theme of the party was "Over the Hill". He was genuinely surprised (I think? I was really only 6. He could easily have fooled me). The reason I share this is that I feel it's an excellent example of how long I've been around. I have clear and distinct memories of my father's birthday, and here I am, "celebrating" the same thing.
I suppose there are milestones we expect ourselves to hit when we are children and are planning out our lives. My parents were very young when they started a family, and I never expected to start one of my own in my early twenties. However, I am now the age that my parents were when they STOPPED having children. I definitely thought, as a child, that I would be married by now, or at least happily settled in some way.
But some of those milestones I HAVE hit. I have a degree (something only a few members of my family have achieved, especially in a "traditional" time range), I own my own home. I'm still the only person in my immediate family to have owned a NEW automobile. Crazy, huh? (By the way, I don't plan on doing that again, but that's another story!)
And there are factors that contribute to my place on the human timeline. For starters, society is different from when it was when my parents were starting out their adult lives, and more and more people are getting married later. And having children later. And I've had my share of roadblocks, and I can blame them, right?
I guess the biggest disappointment is that I don't FEEL old. I genuinely feel like a child, and am really sad that I have to acknowledge that I am not one. But I've been repeatedly reminded by many people that your 30s are the best years. So I am choosing (?) to be upbeat about it. To celebrate my age as simply a number, a time to get presents and see my dear friends, and to take solace in the image of myself not OVER the hill, but approaching the summit, about to come upon the place from where I can both look back on the lower points and see the way forward.