Followed a discussion on "The View" about what years were the best. They chose 28 and 35. Got me to thinking. Twenty-eight was when I realized I was an adult. That year 18-21 year olds suddenly seemed to be so much younger, less mature' and with the wisdom of age I realized how much emotional growing one did in those years. I liken that explosion of emotional maturity to a baby's first year of physical growth. At 18 one feels so adult with answers to everything and all dreams possible. By 21 one realizes how much there is to learn and how many dreams have yet to be even formed. There are exciting years but full of drama. Highs so high and lows so low. But from all that comes a sense of oneself and an acceptance of the future, where one is going and how one can get there. One is by no means done but one is certainly entering adulthood.
At 35 I was in the throes of parenthood. There were aspects of parenhood I would definitely never want to change, but it was a lot of hard work which having survived I don't want to repeat. I don't want to ever repeat being so tired. (Although this allergy season I'm feeling that mind-sapping, leg-weary energy drain which has a familiarity with the lack of sleep of the 30s.) And having to have all the answers for kids I found scary.
Rather I loved my 50's and early 60's. I began to appreciate my talents. Found the special love ro and from adult children. Finally started the process of becoming comfortable with my place in the world around me. Stopped searching for normal and embraced uniqueness. All in all such fulfilling years. Maybe I'm just a late bloomer. Oh there are still the highs and lows, the ebb and flow of life, but as my wise mother pointed out, "How can you enjoy the triumphs, if you don't experience the disappointments?" Life keeps moving along, not always smoothly but in lurches.
Reminds me that I haven't shouted to the rooftops my word of the year lately, but I keep whispering it in my mind. FORWARD!
Wishing all of you the best day, week month and year!!!!