…and then I was 30

Holy poop.

How on earth am I already 30 years old?

I feel like the last 10 years have just gone by in a hazy blur.

One minute I’m dancing at prom, the next I’ve got an office job, two kids and a husband.

Seriously, it’s actually kind of freaky.

I don’t remember much from my childhood aside from the odd memory now and again. They’re pretty random memories and often quite hazy. Like the time I squashed marshmallows up my grandads t-shirt.

He was so mad!

Understandably so, as I stood watching him trying to pick bits of marshmallow out of his back hair!

Ew!

Of all the things to remember from your childhood, why this?

I also remember waking in the early hours most nights. I was probably around 12, maybe 13. My bedroom was at the front of the house which overlooked the main road along with a road directly opposite our house.

Many a night, I’d kneel down in front of my bedroom window and watch drunks, kids and the odd lost cat stumble down the road.

There’s something fascinating about people watching. I don’t know what it is though. I just can’t seem to put my finger on it. Perhaps it’s the not knowing. Seeing a stranger and being able to think up different things about them. Maybe they’re a spy or a secret agent!

Anyway….moving on..!

I remember high school pretty well. I wasn’t one of the popular kids. I had friends of course, but after a while I grew bored of all of their drama. Not a day would go by where there wasn’t arguments and people falling out. I just didn’t want that in my life.

It wasn’t long before I ditched them and started to hang around with my sister and her friends.

I don’t remember much from college to be honest. I’m not even sure why I went to college. To please my parents? To extend the time between then and having to get a full time job? Who knows. I did a course in public services. My best friend was doing it, so I figured I’d tag along too.

I had this fantasy of being a police officer, but it didn’t come to anything. I wasn’t passionate about it. It was during my college days that mum died.

Now that was like a stab to the heart. It was a long time coming. She had ovarian cancer and had spent the previous month or so in hospital. I guess that’s why I didn’t cry when I was told the news of her passing.

I remember walking into the hospital with my sister. The corridors were quiet and empty. We walked into the room where mum should have been except she wasn’t there.

Confused, we back tracked down the corridor we’d just walked up and found my dad, nan and auntie sat in a side room.

I remember sitting there surrounded by all these people who were crying. I tried to make myself cry, but I couldn’t. Of course I beside myself. I was upset, but no tears came.

I felt bad about it. I mean, you should cry shouldn’t you. What were they thinking watching me sitting there with dry eyes? That I didn’t care?

Of course I cared. More than anything in the world, but I think I finally know why I didn’t cry right away. I was expecting it. It was inevitable. I knew she was going to die and I guess in some ways it was a relief. Relief that mum wouldn’t be in any more pain.

I’ve cried many, many times since then and I think about mum pretty every day. Today is 12^th year anniversary of her death. 12 years. They’ve gone by so quickly.

I got my first job not long after leaving college and convinced myself that it was just a stop-gap until I found the job of my dreams.

11 years later. I’m still working there.

I met my now husband, we had IVF and as a result have the most beautiful twin girls. They’re five now and that’s gone by in just as much of a blur.

So here I am.

30 years old.

Husband.

Two kids.

No pets.

…and I wonder…

What have I achieved in my life? In 30 years of being alive. 30 years of life.

Can I look back and say the last 30 years have been well lived? Yes, at times, but I’m trying not to look back now. Just forward and I wonder what the next 30 years will hold.