It was our honeymoon, but it was also our birthday (yes, it’s the same day), and this year, I turned thirty. In some ways, I felt like I was already there – I was definitely tired enough to feel thirty. But in other ways, it felt like a relief. Like you’ve been waiting for a wave to crest and potentially crash onto you, but the swell lifts you up and drops you back exactly where you were.

Thirty feels kind of nice. It feels like… this next decade will be full of wonderful things and I know so much will have happened between now and my next milestone birthday. It also feels like confidence and satisfaction and safety and a million other things I can’t quite name yet.

Thirty doesn’t feel as fraught as my twenties. It feels kind of cozy and optimistic. I was so worried (and I think this is pretty common) that I would feel like I peaked in my twenties and it was all downhill from there. But I feel the opposite – I can already see so many wonderful seasons of my life still ahead of me, some closer than others, and although I am very happy being thirty, all the other years stretched out ahead are looking pretty good too. I hope I never feel like I peaked. I hope that life just shrinks and expands, shifts and deepens, and becomes more and more beautiful every year with the details, memories and wrinkles it accumulates as we go along.

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