It’s an incredibly weird feeling, turning from 24 to 25, like in one day everything has changed though nothing has. Suddenly life seems to take on a tone of immediacy, as if the sands themselves have just woken up and remembered they’re supposed to be slipping away- “It’s time to get moving, girl.”
The problem with that is that I have been moving, haven’t actually ever stopped moving since I was a kid. Good grades, scholarships, volunteering, college; working as a cashier, cook, waitress, bartender, substitute, babysitter, tutor, camp counselor, teacher, librarian; juggling relationships and family and pets and cars and apartments and dreams and writing through it all.
For me, though it certainly feels like the clock’s ticking a little faster, 25 is not a time to get going. 25 is a time to look around at where I am and see that it is blessed. It is a time to…
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