In less than 24 hours, I will be 28.
And I don't care.
I can tell you that, two years ago, around this time, I was panicking. 26! No boyfriend, no husband, no kids! Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! I was going to alone *forever*! This was also about the time I was re-finding religion and it all got mixed up together, let me tell you. I was *convinced* that if I found the right faith, if I did the right things, essentially, if I held my mouth right, the sun and the moon and the stars would align and God would finally chuck a husband at me.
Two years later. I'm happier with myself. I'm not perfect, and I by no means have everything figured out. If I ever tell you I do, please feel free to slap me upside the head, repeatedly. And while I do still want to have a husband, and children, it's hardly the driving force in my life. I'm happy by myself - but I'm never alone. I have my family.
I think that people really do need to be settled into themselves before they can contemplate being with someone else. And that comes at different ages and times for different people. Looking back, I know that I was never ready before. Hell, I may not be ready now. But at least I recognize that fact, and it doesn't scare me.
I love where I live. I *love* the state of Florida, and *everything* about it. I love the heat, I love the sun, I love the rain, and the lightning, and the wildlife! I love being able to walk out into my front yard and find snakes and gators! I love living near wildlife preserves and wetlands, and swamps. I love that I can take a weekend down to the Keys, or Miami, or St. Augustine (though technically St. Augustine is up, not down). I like (not love) my job, and the people I work with. For the most part. Do I want to go back to school? Sure. But I have no idea what for, so I won't. It's a waste of money (to me) otherwise. I'm getting healthy. I'm slowly figuring out my faith, but I don't feel rushed about it. Schools out, so I'll start going to the Orthodox church now.
What will be, will be. There is a path, even though I can't see it, or what lies on it. And I'm happy with that. Life'd be boring if I knew what was coming.
And while this may seem a total non sequitur, I've also stopped covering my hair. Just like when I knew that I needed to cover, I now have the same feeling, the same certainty, that I can stop. Maybe I'll have to take it up again at some point. I don't know. I really have nothing to say about it at this point.