Birthday doom approaches. I’m turning 25 on Weds. It’s the first birthday where I’ve actually paused and considered my age. I believe that there is a point in everyone’s life where they stop, realize that they aren’t a kid anymore, and it creates a solemn moment. I haven’t experienced mine.
It’s funny how you spend your entire childhood, looking up at the adults, seeing how big they are, how powerful, confident, and awesome they appear. You watch with envy as they stay up late, seemingly do as they please, and you say to yourself, “I wonder when that will be me?”.
Until this week, I’ve always felt that same feeling. No matter that I’m 6’ 2”, I still sometimes feel like that little kid when I compare myself to others, I still sometimes ask, “when will I look and feel like an adult?”.
This weekend I got to go on a little mini-vacation to Sequim and Port Angeles, towns where I spent a good part of my teen-years. It was an amazing, nostalgic trip, with plenty of sightseeing, stories, family visits, and even a quick swim in my favorite lake.
That night, when we walked in the room, a sudden realization hit me and I commented to my girlfriend… “You know, it just hit me, when I was 13, I was outside these rooms, doing the landscaping as one of my first real jobs, wishing I was in there… now, I’m 25, and I’m getting booked into my king-suite by the manager, a client of mine.”
That is the exact moment I felt big, all grown up, ready to #crushit.