29 years ago I had a pit in my stomach as I dreaded my approaching birthday. Okay, maybe I wouldn't say I was dreading my 11th birthday, but I was upset. Why? Well, when I turned 10 someone - I don't know who - commented that this was the last year I could show how old I was with my hands. I was taken aback. Maybe it was my introverted self who loved the ability to communicate my age (common conversation fodder for adults) without having to speak. Whatever the reason, I found this number "11" just so uncool.
Tomorrow I face another uncool number. I know it's just a number, but I don't like saying because it sounds like the number of a person who has their life together. The number of a person who has a career and is progressing toward some end goal. I, on the other hand, am someone who is still trying to figure out what to do. I don't have all the answers yet. Maybe answers aren't what aging gives you. But when I stop and consider my life I think maybe I've found a few of those elusive answers.
"A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one."