I had a long awaited get together with five of my oldest girlfriends last night, which was wonderful. One was freshly engaged, two others back from overseas adventures, and we were catching up. With the sharing of stories (as we snacked and sipped) came the talking of plans for the future and we all marveled at how we were now at this place: in our mid-twenties - some of us married, others getting married, others wondering how far off that will be, talking about children (one of my dearest friends confided in me yesterday, after years of being an adamant non-breeder, that kids will probably be on the cards for her), moving abroad, buying houses... Mostly this chapter is a wonderful celebration, but it comes with a bit of trepidation. Last night I said, "I don't really feel old enough to be 25."
Here are my ladies are doing shots like the classy broads they are.
Upon reflection, this is both true and not true. On one hand, does anyone ever live up to those expectations you set for yourself when you're 16? Married by 21, and a successful career/house/kids/dog by 23? I surely didn't, and I'm not sure I'm ready for marriage/kids/dog for at least a couple of years. When five couples of your friends get engaged in the past six months, this is something you need to be clear on. There's something in the air, 2012, and it's confetti-filled.
On the other hand, I feel perfectly poised on the crest of the 25 hill. When I look back at my life as it's gone, it's been
Here's to 25, and living life at your own pace.