Growing.

 

Yesterday was my birthday.

Birthdays don’t feel like birthdays anymore.  There’s no excitement or party, there’s just a feeling of knowing I’m getting older.  I don’t feel older, though.  Sometimes I even ask my spouse how old I am because I forget.  But once I started to actually think about it, I really am getting older – and growing.  Not so much physically, but mentally and spiritually, I guess.  Maturing.  I’m a big girl now.

 

I spent my 16th birthday drinking a margarita out of a sippy cup and watching cartoons.
I spent my 17th birthday pregnant.
I spent my 18th birthday with my infant son and his father.
I spent my 19th birthday getting my GED.
I spent my 20th and 21st as a college student.
I spent my 22nd birthday working at a Networking event, which my family attended.
And this year I spent my 23rd birthday eating sushi with my family and we took our son to the library.

So when I really take a closer look at it – I am maturing each year.  Each year I am more grown up than the last.

I love that I’m not still that lost soul I was when I was sixteen.  I love that each year I have accomplished something and moved up on the ladder in life.  I love my life.