I've been remembering back to ten years ago a lot this week. Twenty-five was the closing year of a certain phase of my life in many ways. At 26 I would marry, move, return to grad school, and decide that what was looking to be a promising career just wasn't what I wanted to be doing for the rest of my working life. I was 26 when the symptoms of a chronic condition started making themselves apparent and when it began to sink in that fertility wasn't going to be a straight, easy road for me. Twenty-five belongs to my "before" in so very many respects. And although the promise of that "anything is possible" feeling which belonged to that time was so exhilarating, I like being on the other side of it, too.
If you had asked me at 25 what I thought my 35-year old self would be like, what my life would look like, I'm not sure what I would have said. I know it would have included Todd. Beyond that, who knew? But, my word, has it played out in lovely and wonderful ways. I may be one step removed from retirement in the eyes according to the great gods of demographics, but it sure feels to me like there is an enormous amount left to be played out. And maybe we'll all still be here at this blog to find out what my 45 will be like.