On the number twenty-three...
That number is my age (yes, I'm young, I know) for a few more months. It's also my husband's age. We are both trying to figure out why turning twenty-four this year seems so much older than twenty-three. The logic is absent: twenty-four is only a year older, hardly anything in comparison to those slowly approaching big decade numbers, and it is alos still very young. Yet it feels very strange to think Cory will be twenty-four in a few weeks and so will I, in a few months. A friend claims that the strange feeling comes from realizing that twenty-four is mid-twenties and not early twenties, but that doesn't seem to account for all the strangeness.
My grandmother flat-out told me that I'm not allowed to turn twenty-four. However, she's been telling me such things for years now.
Growing up and age are funny things--unstable, always occurring, and yet somehow significant in how we understand ourselves.
Image by Rufus Spiller
1 comment:
For some reason, I remember when I thought that 11 was so old. If only I knew how it's even better when you're twice that age.
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