Impossible

Looking back on the eve of my 30th birthday, I recall fretting over the fact that my youthful 20s were coming to an end. I focused on the things I hadn't done yet, the wife and kids I didn't have like that of many of my friends and family by that age, and masked my negative feelings with sarcasm and jokes about how "old" thirty was going to feel.

Don't get me wrong, thirty isn't old. But when you're in your early 20's, ready to conquer the world, the thought of hitting thirty seems quite foreign and, well, grown up. I mean, after 30 is 40, and after that, well, you're old as shit. But back to how I couldn't picture myself being 30. It reminded me of when I was a child, I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that people could drive cars and one day I would! It seemed like an impossible task. 

Well, here I am, having blasted past the big 3-0 by two years, still 'Unmarried Without Children' and living in a perpetual remodel, it's only natural to assess where I'm at in life. It would be easy to get down, lament that I haven't lived up to what societal norms say I "should do" by a certain age, feel alone and under accomplished. Instead, I look at what I have, what I've done, the wonderful friends I've made, my loving family, the great job I've had for 10 years now and all the incredible experiences and destinations it's offered me and realize I've got it pretty damn good. I'm happy, content, patient and most importantly, grateful.

Yet, here I am, 32 and realizing not only have I mastered the once unthinkable task of driving a car, but I've been doing so for half of my life. HALF! Inconceivable. Again, it would have been easy to dwell on the negative and feel "another year older." Call it maturity, humility or just good old fashioned perspective, but now I realize I'm only thirty two. I'd rather do what's hard. I'd rather push myself to be better, strive for something I perceive to be unattainable. I mean, I've already done the impossible. What's stopping me from learning to drive all over again?

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Upon finishing this, I felt like I just listened to an editorial piece on NPR and was waiting for "Justin Limoges is a contributing writer for such and such publication..." but really, I'm just some kid that went to art school, not smart school, and I sometimes write junk down.