A Young 35

On Monday I turned 35.

For the last several weeks I have been whining and complaining about how old I am getting. I have been such a baby about it that I'm starting to get on my own nerves.

My grandfather turned 90 two days before my birthday and while I sat back and watched this rugged, active, energetic man blow out his candles and schedule another big bash 10 years from now, I began rethinking this whole aging thing.

I am healthy, strong, and blessed beyond measure. How dare I complain about the years I've earned rather than feel grateful for each and every one?

My mother died at 57. She was far too young and full of life to leave us, but I am grateful for every single second I had with her. Never in my life did I hear her say one negative thing about aging. She welcomed every new stage that came along.

Yes, I'm 35...or "checking the next box" now, as I like to say. And, rather than focusing on what gravity has begun to take hold of or point out the arrival of crow's feet and stress wrinkles, I will do my best to welcome this year with hopeful optimism and sensibilities. I will appreciate those moments of joy that have given me laugh lines and recognize the gifts that come with age. I feel that I am smarter, more self-assured, and far more comfortable in my own skin than at any other time in my life.

The world no longer looks like it did 15 years ago. It looks better.

And... I can't wait to find out what it will look like in another 15.

*See what you get for your birthday when you're dating a really sweet bicycle man!

(...not to mention super cute!!) Thank you, Lance.