Thirty-six

I'm turning 36 in a few days. I'm struggling, I have to admit. It just seems so . . . .

   . . . . so . . . .

Absolute.

As if suddenly the world is in front of me and I have to decide on a specific path to take.

 . . . . and I don't want to.

Not yet.

I've never really had the chance to enjoy the journey much.

Married too young . . .

    .  . . . a mother too young . . . .

Growing up, I was the adult. I was the caretaker, the parent, the responsible one.

I had to learn to play.

And, yet, now, it seems as if it is expected of me to return to that mindset and be, well, boring.

And I don't want to. Because I am having more fun now than ever.

My choices are mine.

 . . .  not a husband's

 . . . . not a mother's

 . . . . no ones.

The choices I make now are mine.

But the comments are starting:

When are you getting married

 . . . .isn't college a pipe dream? It's time to be an adult and find a job.

 . . . . You're too old to go out. You should sit at home.

I DON'T WANT TO!!!!!!

I want to read books I have never read before. I want to travel. I want to meet people.


I want to fall in love. Make mistakes. Say I'm sorry. And do it again.

I got started at Life too late. I'm not ready to give it up yet for a dog, 4 bedrooms and a white picket fence.

I don't want a band on my finger, weighing me down in one place.

I don't want to spend my days in a corporate environment, chasing everyone else's dream.

So I won't.

I won't.

I'm not.

I won't.

I'm going to be 36. And to me that means . . . ..

I make the choices. I call the shots. I decide where I want to be.

And, honestly, I want to be right where I am.

I like the blank canvas that my life is right now.

But I like drawing on it in pencil even more.