Thirty years ago. 1980.
Did you know that a McDonald's hamburger was only 38 cents? Gas was around 50 cents a litre? And milk was just over a dollar?
Oh, and I was born.
I read somewhere that when you turn 30 you stop trying to find yourself and start creating yourself. I love that. After a little apprehension about the big 3-0, I know I wouldn't change being thirty for anything - even though somedays I still say it and can't believe it. It probably doesn't help that I still have the same hairstyle as I did when I was 16. I'm thirty. I'm thirty?
February 13th. My Dad used to joke that I was almost a sweetheart. Almost. That little girl that he raised to run around shirtless in her muddy overalls, stringy blond hair in her eyes, painting the deck and getting more paint in her hair than on the boards.
That awkward, shy, boy-crazy teenager that tried hard not to show her feelings by day, while scribbling them into her diary by night. Feeling like she never quite fit in anywhere, and not really sure if she wanted to anyways.
The young 20 year old with a baby and a husband and not a clue on how she got here or how she was going to survive. But determined to survive and keep a strong face while she did. Still awkward and still shy and still looking for somewhere to fit. But not willing to change her shape to fit somewhere.
It feels good to see where I've come from and where I still have to go. It feels good to be who I am and not apologize for being her. I am still awkward and still shy - but I don't feel like I should change that for anyone. I know where I am strong and I don't feel the need to prove anything. I just hope that I am always willing to change and grow and mature. Because change is at the heart of growth - and growth at the heart of strength. And at the heart of this big thirty year old, lies that blond, pigtailed little girl - without a care in the world. And more than anything, it feels good to know that looking back at her now the only thing that I would tell her?
You're going to turn out just fine.