Turning 30

I am turning 30 this month. That seems like a pretty big milestone, you know, for a 29 year old. It feels like this age separates the adults from the kids, but for real this time. Like you can still get away with being childishly irresponsible in your 20s, it is almost expected. But in your 30s, it just becomes sad. I have wrinkles. No really, real wrinkles. Ok, they aren't super noticeable, but they are there. And it doesn't make me sad. I earned these suckers. And not just because I should have used more moisturizer. I have worry lines and laughter lines. They have started to faintly trace their way across my forehead and along the sides of my mouth. I have scars that haven't faded away. Some from hard work and some from poor decisions. And one very large one from bringing a very special person into my life. I am turning 30, and it appears that I have proof that I have lived.