The Older I Get

This past weekend, I turned 27. It feels odd getting older, seeing time slip through my hands. It seems like just yesterday I was turning 22, and I’m sure in a few years it’s going to seem like I just turned 27. It is kind of an odd concept where something feels both close and far away, because I feel like my 26th birthday was a lifetime ago.

When I think about who I am now, there are parts of me that I saw at 22 and parts that I did not see. As we age, we see new branches and flowers emerge from us. I’ve seen how my thoughts have changed on certain concepts, and others haven’t. Over the years, some of the people who have been around me as I’ve blown out the candles have changed, but the flavor of the cake hasn’t (always chocolate).

The person you grow into is both similar to and different from who you are now and who you have been.

27-year-old me would probably both like and be annoyed by 22-year-old me. Like how an older sibling looks at the younger sibling who is still figuring life out. I wish I could go back and tell 22-year-old me to do certain things differently. I wish I could take all the learnings and lessons from the bumps in the road, detours, and everything in between, condense it into a book, and shove it into 22-year-old me’s head. I wish I didn’t have to find out so many things the hard way, but in a sense, that may be the only way to truly learn.

Life has few shortcuts that are worthwhile.