This week's writing prompt:
What is your favorite age? If you could stay that age forever, would you?
I think being two must have been the best age. I was super cute, BLONDE, stylishly dressed, and I didn't have a care in the world. Of course, bed time was 7pm, I had to do what the grown ups said ALL THE TIME, and I didn't know how to read yet, which must have been a huge downer. So maybe being two wasn't the best age after all.
Being eight was the best, I think. I had fully formed attitudes and opinions (and ATTITUDE, obviously). I had yet to experience any real trauma, heartache, or injustice, and everything in my little world revolved around me, or at least I thought it did. Except... my world was so small... And there were so, so many things I hadn't experienced yet...
So maybe it was age 13. I had friends, I had fun, I didn't have any responsibilities, I loved and excelled in school... But dear lord, that perm! Really, that takes age 13 out of the running for the best age ever.
Oh I know! Age 16! That age was the best! I had a car, a boyfriend, money in my pocket, zero responsibilities! I did great in school. Also? Not to brag, but would you look at those thighs? Sigh... The toughest thing in my life at that point was World Civ I with Coach Patton. Except... I was full of normal teenage angst, so I didn't really enjoy it like I should. So maybe not 16.
Maybe 18? Yes! Eighteen is the age I would stay forever! I was fresh off to college, I had my future all mapped out, the whole world was mine for the taking. Eighteen seems like a pretty great age. Well, except I couldn't legally drink. So that's a BIG problem. Huge. Monumental.
So it must be age 22. By age 22, I had met and married R, gotten a job, set up housekeeping, such as it was. But wait. That job was the gateway job to the other job that ate up my life and soul for 17 years. So even though things were pretty good then (look at how gorgeous my hair was, by the way! I had forgotten my hair ever looked like that!), 22 probably isn't a FOREVER age.
By age 26, I was newly divorced, living on my own for the first time in my life. I was also apparently prone to dressing up like a cat, and occasionally drinking too much cheap beer on my friend's front porch and talking philosophically about "life." Ok, let's just forget 26. Maybe I should just forget about it completely, huh?
Ah ha! I've got it! Age 31 was the best of all! I was running my own store, R and I were firmly back together where we belonged, we were first time homeowners, and everything was going swimmingly. Well, except for the fact that work was really starting to wear me down for the first (but certainly not the last) time - see how exhausted I look? It's kind of painful for me to even look at myself from that time. Ok, the best age ever wasn't 31.
It must be 34. That was my favorite! By 34 I had Zachary and my days were filled with little boy kisses and slobbers, and I was well on my journey to figuring out that what I wanted more than anything was to stay home and raise my kids. Except I didn't have Cooper yet... so I guess it can't be 34 after all.
Age 36 must be my favorite age ever! I had both my boys, I had just quit my job to become a full time stay at home Mama, and I started the slow, slow process of reclaiming... ME. But I guess I wasn't there just yet.
And now I'm 39. My family is healthy and happy, our problems are minor, my tribe, small by choice, is powerful and constant, and I feel like I'm doing exactly what I should be doing - raising my boys and taking care of my family. I have hobbies I love, people I care about, and plenty to keep me busy. And I'm learning for the first time in my life that it's really more about the journey than the destination. I'm reclaiming some of the silliness and humor that escaped me for years. I feel good, really good, both physically and mentally. So for today, 39 is the best age ever. But I have a feeling that if you ask me this question next year, or the year after that, or the year after that, the answer will be different. As it should be.