Today I reached a milestone. At least if you count certain values as having greater significance than others, or hold to some belief that change initiates itself upon a schedule. I don't, too often. Big round numbers attract me like anyone else, but I love the small randomness of life far more. Regardless, today I reached one of those rare numerical accomplishments that gets you teased and joked at.
I'm Twenty-Five today. Apparently I'm old now.
I've also apparently hit my introspective cycle. I usually get one or two a year, and they come on at odd times. Usually near the end of winter and the cusp of fall. The first few months of the year were very hectic, however, and I did not have the chance to reflect on things as the world warmed. I'm doing it now, despite efforts to avoid it.
You can tell by the way I'm writing. I tend to get bombastic and florid when I go introspective. I can't seem to help it.
But enough, lolly-gagging about. I old enough to look back on my accomplishments to-date and start to see some good and some noteworthiness take shape from my life so far. And what have I done in 9100+ days upon this earth?
I have found love. I have known some loss. I have set down roots of my own. I have built the foundations of a family. I have thought many silly ideas. Some I've written down for later.
My brother reminded me today that life is about living. About experiencing the things of the world. About growing and learning by pushing at our limits and our comforts. In the past year I have done some of that, but perhaps less than I could have.
But I'm not one for resolutions: I break them far too easily. Even promises to you, dear reader, would fall aside too quickly to be of lasting value. I can only hope to do better in the future. Take the chances that I'm given. Say yes more than no. Perhaps I will. After all, at Twenty-Five I still have a lot more living I can do.