Card me, please!
I’m turning 26 today. My parents still think I’m a teenager. My teenage sister thinks I’m ancient. And my 9-year-old brother has no idea Barney ever existed. I feel — old.
When I’m 40, I’ll likely tell my 26-year-old self that I was insane to think I’m old. And maybe old is pushing it. My husband said I looked “younger today.” God bless him.
Regardless, I’m officially closer to 30 than 20. A single glass of wine gives me a hangover. And when others reference something that happened a decade ago, I can recall it with vivid memory. That makes me feel nauseated.
At least the wait staff still cards me. Thank goodness for strict legislation.
A lot of my peers feel this same way. It doesn’t matter if they’re married or single, career driven or hippie extraordinaire, well off or paying off loans. It feels like time is slipping away.
That’s because it probably is. We’re part of a generation that checks Facebook more than we make a phone call. We go online more than we go out. Anywhere. And we type far more than we talk. Of course time is going by too fast.
So, if I’ve learned anything in my 26 years, it’s to get up. Get out. Leave your phone at home. Turn it off. Or better yet, throw it off your balcony as a birthday present (okay, not really, because then you’ll have to ask for a new one after everyone has already bought you a gift). Still, you get where I’m going with this.
Time won’t slow down for you. It will only become more or less sufficient. We all have time to get it right. And I mean that whether you’re turning 15 or 65 on your next birthday. What matters is that we can be happy. We can be content. And we can love our birthdays.
To loving birthdays.∗