I turned 24 last week. One week ago exactly, actually.
A song popped up on the radio last night that took Eric and I both back to our dating years. (Isn't it crazy how songs can do that?) One part of the song says, " . . . I think about you, 8 years old, big blue eyes, and a heart of gold . . . " (name that tune :)
And since Eric always thinks it's funny to insert his own lyrics into songs, he used to sing it to me saying '18 years old'. Then he mentioned how he couldn't quite believe that.
"You're twenty freakin four!! Can you believe that?!," was exactly how he said it actually, "That was six years ago. SIX years ago. In six more years we'll both be 30."
Every once in a while I do feel rushed to get things done - like my life is passing me by. Wondering sometimes if I've done all of the things I wanted to do by the time I turned 24. So after that explicit 'you're geting older' statement from my dear husband, there was a moment of panic.
But only a moment.
I feel pretty darn good about being where I am at the ripe old age of 24.
(But if the next 6 years really do go as fast as the last 6, I'm going to have an 8 year old before I know it. That makes me dizzy.)