The years of fun, carefree days and nights. The years of discovering who you are or who you want to be. The years of bad boyfriends (or good boyfriends, but bad timing). The years of bottles of wine…lots of bottles of wine. The years of cheap apartments, rolling pennies for gas, and eating noodles every night because you wanted an expensive pair of shoes. The years of finally living on your own with no rules. The years of parties until the early morning hours and weekend trips with girlfriends just because you want to get away.
The years of you.
My 20’s were spent living it up. I had a cheap place to live, my own truck, my own horse trailer, my horse was boarded at my parents, and I had absolutely no responsibilities other than my job (which as long as I got all my stuff done, I could come in late and leave early if I wanted). In other words, in the grand picture of life, I really didn’t have any responsibilities at all.
I was young, single, and I had fun. A lot of fun. Now, for the record, I wasn’t one of those girls that went crazy with countless men, if you know what I mean or was heavy into drugs or anything like that. That wasn’t me.
With that said, though, I did love to go dancing on the weekends, I took trips to big cities for fun, drove around sometimes until the sun came up with friends.
All in all, It was a fun time in life.
Now, I’m not trying to say that I don’t have fun anymore or that my life is miserable. It’s far from it, but what I do find interesting when I think upon my 20’s is how much I’ve changed.
About a month ago, I came across my old stash of CD’s that I purchased in my youthful clubbing days. The collection of songs that were always favorites to shake my derriere on the dance floor to. Just for kicks I decided to listen to some of them, and I was actually quite surprised at my reaction.
Surely, they made me smile. Sure, I remembered every single one of them. Sure, I sang along with the words.
Wow. Where did that thought come from? Did I seriously just mock my former self?
I know that having kids and getting older naturally changes your mind on the things, however fun and stupid, you did before you had said kids. But, I was actually a little shocked by how much.
I haven’t been dancing in over twelve years. TWELVE YEARS!!! Where in the world did those years go?? In about five months I’ll turn 38 years old. And, while I know that’s still young, it’s shocking to me to even utter that number. I remember my parents at 38. My parents are supposed to be 38, not me.
As my oldest daughter gets older, I see my former self in her. The carefree girl that will do all the things I did a long time ago. Not only do I hope she does them, well some of them, I mean, *cough* I’m not completely innocent, *cough*, but I hope she lives her 20’s as she wants to. If it’s a husband and kids, great. And, if it’s a cheap apartment, dancing to her favorite songs, and weekend trips to someplace fun, great, too. As long as it’s what she wants.
Because isn’t that what your 20’s is for? You.