twenty-eight

So, I've been 28 for a little over a week now. Interesting.

I keep saying "28? Really? Huh". Not that I really have a problem with getting older- every year is a little victory, isn't it? But I don't *feel* 28. I don't know what 28 is supposed to feel like, but this isn't it. 24, sure. 25, maybe. Perhaps it's because career-wise, I *am* only about 24. I mean, by the time you're 28, you're settled, right? Maybe going for that job at the next level of experience. Not starting over for the third time. Well, ok, you certainly can be starting over for the *third* time, obviously, because I am/have been/will be but still. Seems wrong and out of order.

I do, however, really need to stop comparing myself to my parents. My mother was 23 the year I was born. She was 25 the year Rob was born. So, she had two kids- heck, one in school already- the year she was 28. I have...a laptop and an aloe plant. And a lot of yarn and books. Not quite the same. I'm not looking for sympathy, by the way, it'll happen when it happens, and I don't think it's going to happen here (I could be wrong, stranger things have happened). But it is not quite the same. It doesn't have to be the same, but, well, this is not how I thought this was going to go.

Anyway, I'm 28. Maybe I'll be better at 28 than I was at 27. Might try harder, anyway.