So Tuesday night I went to bed 32 years old, and Wednesday morning I woke up 33 years old.
Why do we celebrate birthday annually? We age gradually, and sometimes gracefully, over the course of a year. So why is it that you go to bed one age and wake up another? My son is (for all intensive purposes) 1… but he’s damn near 2. But when they write down his age they say he’s one, and in some instances they write that he’s 22 months. My daughter is 5, and she’s quite proud when she can says she’s 5 and 1/2.
As adults we don’t use halves or months. We dread the aging process and some of us even fib about our age.
I’m proud to be 33, I’m proud of what I’ve don’t in my short 33 years. I can’t wait to see what I’m going to do in the next years. I know I’m mediocre to some folks, but I’m happy. I like me, I like who I am, I like what I’ve done, I like what I try to do. I’m proudly 33 years young, and happy with where I am at in my life. I can’t wait to see what I can accomplish in the next 1,2,5,10,15…. even 33 years.
Who knows, maybe next month if someone asks me how old I am, I’ll respond with 33 and a month, or for even more fun I’ll say 397 months.