I realized yesterday that I'll never be twenty again. And probably never full of that hope and gonna-get-'em spirit like I was then.
But this? The thirty-five year old mom of two gig?
I kinda like it.
Thirty five seems to be the best so far - I'm aware that my body isn't the same as when I was in my twenties, but I have only a few new lines and sags, so no bellyaching about being over the hill.
I like that younger people think of me as grown-up, although it still amazes me that older people do - and I hope I never grow out of the lovely feeling of being a kid that my grandparents still give me.
Inside, I feel responsible and dutiful and ready-to-assume-control, but that feeling is fighting a never-ending battle with the voice inside me that screams 'Dance! Dance badly! WHO CARES!'
It's a nice hum. You could almost dance to it.