Eight Years

I’ve known you for 8 years.

Know how I know?

Because when we became friends eight years ago you were just about to turn 32. Thirty-two, the age that I thought was weird to be hanging out with a 24 year old. Thirty-two, the age that I will be in a few short days.

To me at that time, 32 sounded so old and so grown up. Thirty- two. I told you it was an age that you should have your life together, married with babies, a dog, and work at a job that you love from 9am- 5pm every Monday to Friday.

Thirty-two seemed old but you never did. You were carefree and fun and liked to dance in the living room. We stayed up till 2am on Wednesdays eating Goobers and Girl Scout Cookies and watching silly youtube videos. You’d drag me to midnight movies even though we both had work at 8am. And interestingly enough, you were the one that still got carded at the theatre.

And now that I am rounding that corner and about to be 32…

Thirty-two doesn’t seem so old.

What was I thinking back then?

There’s still lots of time to figure out the plan and be a grown up!

But now you’re closer to 40.

And that’s old.

You should really be a grown up by 40.

Unless of course when I turn 40 I decide it isn’t really the age that you have to be a grown-up…




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