It's my birthday too

If I hadn't recently gotten rid of old journals, it's possible I could fine entries that said where I thought I'd be at 27. (Though unlikely, 25 is a much more "when I am..." kind of age.)

I can say that at 17 I didn't exactly picture this. I'm sure I saw a career in theatre, after having completed a degree in just that. I think I'd have seen myself as some kind of New York free spirit, tied down to nothing, and going wherever the wind took me.

At 21 I saw myself married, devoted to my husband and likely still pursuing theatre, and probably a mom.

By 25 I wanted to be a wife and mother. Peaceful, settled and still thinking in terms of education, though no longer focused solely on theatre. I thought I knew who that man would be, and I had many, many dreams/thoughts of what that life would be like. They weren't all pleasant.

Today I am 27. I have a man I love, who loves me, and brings me endless amounts of peace and joy. I have a baby who I love more than my own dreams. I am settled, and happy, and a "hausfrau". None of which I thought would fulfill me when I was younger. Perhaps it's maturity, perhaps it's merely life, but I love where I am in my life. I love my family, and I am grateful every day for them.

Sure, it still twinges in me that I am old (27? That's so OLD! Ahh, the thoughts of 18)
But you know what? I wouldn't trade my life now. Not for any past dream or hope. And maybe that is maturity after all.