There once was a time when I used to laugh at all of those silly people that made such a big deal about getting another year older. I could never really understand what exactly their problem was with having been on this earth for yet another year.
Over the past few days, that shoe has managed to find itself snugly in place on the other foot. Today marks my 25th birthday and I am finding myself surprisingly unhappy about this unavoidable incident.
Traditionally, birthdays are supposed to be a day to look back on the previous year and reflect on everything that has happened. When I look back on the past year, I can't help but realize how truly blessed I have been. Carmen and I were blessed with a beautiful, happy and healthy baby girl. I accepted a new job that has given me more time and energy to spend on my new family. And most importantly, I remain in good health.
So why am I so glum? I really have no idea. Perhaps it's the knowledge that I am now a quarter of a century old. Maybe it's the thought that at 25, there is no longer any mistaking that I am, in fact, an adult (Never mind me being proud about owning a house and a minivan). Or maybe it's just my head playing some kind of a nasty little trick on me. Well, whatever the case, I'm sure that this feeling will pass in a few more days and stay gone until that dreaded 40th birthday (or perhaps the somewhat less stressful 30)...
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