The idea of turning 24 is super hard for me because I always said I wanted kids by 25. Knowing where I am in life, my career, and my current economic situation, I know that’s just not going to happen.
But, as frustrating as the idea was at first, I’m no longer bothered by it.
When I have kids I’ll be financially stable.
When I have kids I’ll have a beautiful home to raise them in.
When I have kids I will (hopefully) be writing full time.
Because I don’t have the option of an accident baby. Or a surprise baby. Having a child is going to take work, and even then, there’s no guarantee I’ll even be able to conceive.
Turning 24 means I’m only one year away from being halfway through my twenties. Which is crazy because I feel like I just graduated high school.
In reality, I’ve been graduated for five whole years now.
Turning 24 means I’m the age my mom was when I was conceived. I was her second kid. So, I’m either doing better than she was or a whole lot worse.
Turning 24 means I have no more milestone birthdays before people just start calling me old.
Turning 24 means that my brother is nearing 30, and that is equally insane because it also feels like he just graduated, rather than it being nearly a decade ago.
Turning 24 means that all the students in my preschool class are officially 20 years younger than me.
Sometimes as we grow up, we forget that others are also growing old. I’m going to cherish this next year with my dad, who just celebrated 50!
Here’s to 24, and to many more birthdays.