This morning I began the first day of the last year of my 20s. So maybe it’s time to take stock of my life.
I have a degree…that I’ve never used.
I have only lived in 4 towns. All of them in Mississippi.
I have traveled to Mexico once. The Bahamas, twice.
I’ve been to or through 8 states…all of them Southern.
I now live in the town where I grew up. In a house, slightly less than what I thought I’d be living in at this point in my 29 years.
I have no real plans to travel big some day. I have no definite plans to build a bigger house, or make an inspiring, risky career move.
So, there is probably someone reading this that feels sorry for me. Or thinks that I’m just as “less than” as my house. Or that I should get out more. See the world. “DO SOMETHING!”, they’re probably yelling at the their computer screen.
I whisper back to them.
I have an 18 month old something that is more fulfilling than any job promotion. Bigger than any size house you could lay out for me. More beautiful than any beach sunset or mountain view you could throw at me. And when he sings me “pappy birbay”, totally unprovoked at lunch time, just the two of us, well I’m pretty sure it beats the socks off anything worldly. I have two of the sweetest, craziest puppies (okay, dogs) that ever lived. They keep me on my toes, in my running shoes. And when they snuggle up to me at night, it’s pretty close to paradise. Our families live less than 2 miles from us (that’s a good thing!). I have a 3 year old nephew that makes me laugh. Hard. My sister lives within that 2 miles (if you have one, you know that’s huge!) And my husband? Well, he’s my rock. My love story. My best friend. My high school sweetheart.
So yeah, by today’s standards, I should probably kick it up a notch. But I’m not living by someone else’s standards. And really that’s all I ever wanted at 29.