I was driving in to work this morning, chatting with the kiddo, and it occurred to me that, at the ripe old age of 33, I have been driving for more than half my life. That seems so strange to me for some reason. Being able to drive loomed like such an epic milestone when I was a teenager and getting my license was so genuinely thrilling that I suspect it would seem impossible to my 16-year-old self that I am on my fifth car purchased with my own money and that driving is as natural as breathing.
I thought some more about 33. This is a non-event of an age, really. Firmly in my thirties but not yet 35, which seems like the next sort of milestone birthday. I have been alive for 33 years and probably will have to work another 33 (or 35, if I am going to be a good Suze Orman follower) before I retire. I am in the thick of adult life now, no question. I work and parent and try to keep up something that looks like a life outside of those two big and all-consuming facets of my life and will be in this zone for the next two decades or so.
I’m happier (much MUCH much) than I was at 23 and I have no idea (not really) where I’ll be at 43. I’ll have, God willing, adult step-sons, a teenager and a 10-year-old. I’ll have been married for 16 years. These things I count on but I don’t know where I’ll be living and working. I hope that I’m doing triathlons and writing more. I hope that I won’t have felt like the decade between 33 and 43 passed in the blink of an eye and all I did was try to keep up.
How about you? How old are you? What do you think about your age?