This is 28…Reposted 10 years later
I read a great article in the Huffington Post called “This is 38” by Lindsey Mead. I loved this article for many reasons. First, we all know that 30, 40, and 50 are big milestones. Seeing someone reflect on her age was nice, just on the cusp of a big milestone. Since my impending birthday is around the corner (which will solidify my last year in my 20s), I have been inspired to create my own “This is 28.” Here, I can reflect on my own meaning of being right at the edge of 30.
This is 28: I am really an adult.
Twenty-eight is realizing you are truly an adult. It is understanding that life is unpredictable and the teenager that once “knew it all” is long gone. It is having many unanswered questions despite having some life experience. My future is still unclear, and most best-laid plans have gone out the window. (Aren’t we all still trying to figure out what we want to do when we grow up anyway?)
Twenty-eight is looking at pictures of myself and realizing that my face is changing. I envision the 21-year-old college girl with a wide smile, but she has transformed. I have no wrinkles yet, but my face looks like a more refined version of myself.
Twenty-eight is trading in Greek Week, class schedules, and late-night runs to EL Rancho for Junior League, Book Club, and Pampered Chef Parties.
Twenty-eight is full of baby showers, fewer weddings, and nights out have now become nights in; taking dinner to friends with new babies is a monthly occurrence. Twenty-eight is developing a new level of empathy as friends experience infertility, miscarriages, and sick babies.
Twenty-eight is having a swollen heart bursting with love. Being a mommy to babies, I do not feel like a “Mom Mom” because I am not at the age to belong to a PTA. I am a nursing, diaper changing, spastic, rolling on the floor, tickle monster, trying-to-figure-it-out mom that didn’t know you could love something so tiny and ornery so much.
Twenty-eight is falling in love with your husband again for the first time. Now that you are no longer “Newlyweds,” watching him turn into your partner and become a father, and the way he still looks at you like you are the 21-year-old in little booty shorts, even though those shorts probably resemble underwear now when I put them on. Twenty-eight is realizing no matter how much work marriage is, I will get a chance to fall in love with him over and over again as the years pass and finally understand what it means to love him more today than I did yesterday.
Twenty-eight is watching life transitions. Your grandparents begin to pass away, your parents turn into the grandparents, and you turn into the parents. You slap yourself internally as your mother’s voice exits your mouth.
Twenty-eight is losing the feeling of invincibility. Realizing that people close to you will die, life is short, heartbreak is a part of the journey, and happiness is a choice you choose to make every day.
Twenty-eight is choosing to have a deeper relationship with God. Learning and embracing different religions and faith practices. Not solely based on bible studies, attending mass, or being socially Christian. But a deep-seated relationship based on faith and personal understanding between God and me.
Twenty-eight is learning to let go, growing a thicker skin, and understanding that it’s not what matters to others, but it’s what matters to you that counts.
Twenty-eight is knowing that God-willing, I have a lot of years left to live. At twenty-eight, I still feel that if I wanted to become a movie star, I still could. Further schooling is still an option, and travel is a must even though a pack-and-play will now be part of our necessities. Twenty-eight is being liberated from childhood to become your own person—the initial feeling of being whole and falling head first into the abyss of life without knowing how deep the water really is…this is 28.
