Tomorrow I will turn 27 years old. Twenty-seven. 20 + 7. 30 - 3.
When I was in high school one of my best friends had two older cousins who lived in New York City. They are incredibly brilliant girls; strong-minded, independent, working professionals, fashionistas, beautiful, non-profit founders, and happy. The two sisters always smiled. The oldest was 27 and worked for an art magazine that featured up-and-coming New York artists who specialized in a variety of media.
I can remember envisioning myself being 27 and being like the cousins; writing for a major magazine, owning a rent-controlled studio apartment in Manhattan, independent, beautiful, and happy.
My life today is not how I imagined it to be when I was 16 and enamored by those before me. Part of me still desires to write for a major magazine because that is what I love to do. Part of me still desires a rent-controlled studio apartment in Manhattan because that life is full of adventure. In my own way, I am still independent. However, I am recognizing the blessing of a fabulous husband and the support he brings to my life. There is freedom I am granted by letting go and letting him. He makes me feel beautiful. And last, but so first, I am happy. I am redeemed, restored and loved.
Come on 27, I'm ready.