Flipping through a fluff piece on celebrities turning 25 this year, I feel vaguely unaccomplished. In April, I will be 25. That’s hard to type. It seems so old and established. Meghan Fox is turning 25. Meanwhile, I look 12.
And while sometimes I wish there was a little more sophistication to my baby face, there’s more to it than that. There are so many things that I anticipated for 25 when planning out each breath of my life. But, here I am, holding on through a recession that is readily compared to history’s Great Depression. Who would have imagined that?
Last night, I had dinner with a few dear friends. We are all in similar positions, wanting a more fulfilling career, but subjected to the economy’s harsh realities. We daydreamed about what type of business we would start before our thoughts faded as we slowly rendered the ideas useless. As I drove home, my dismal attitude struck me. This is it. There’s no use constantly shooting down daydreams. Daydreams are important, if only for the dream.
I realized how much there is to be thankful for and how important it is to not get bogged down with life’s obstacles, because that’s all this is: a little obstacle of life. Maybe 25 is that final hurdle, and once I reach it, all of these windows will begin to open up, big bay windows with window seats and bookshelves! There was a fire in the fireplace this morning as I got ready for work. And that was beautiful.