28

Age has a way of creeping up on you.

Twenty-eight finally. (On my 27th birthday, I thought I had turned 28. Lack of sleep can do that to you.) Those numbers feel all grown-up and mature. Wiser. Alas, I am not. 

Most days I feel like a kid trying on her mother's shoes, playing at being an adult. I don't do too bad. I get by and I fool them. I am a child at heart, finding pleasure in the simple things and of simply being. 

Maybe wisdom will creep up as well, with the passing of moments. Surely not with the turn of an earth cycle.

28

Age has a way of creeping up on you.

Twenty-eight finally. (On my 27th birthday, I thought I had turned 28. Lack of sleep can do that to you.) Those numbers feel all grown-up and mature. Wiser. Alas, I am not. 

Most days I feel like a kid trying on her mother's shoes, playing at being an adult. I don't do too bad. I get by and I fool them. I am a child at heart, finding pleasure in the simple things and of simply being. 

Maybe wisdom will creep up as well, with the passing of moments. Surely not with the turn of an earth cycle.

Soul Sisters

It's been more than ten years since we pedaled our bicycles at the crack of dawn and spun dreams from on top of our "fortress" on the plaza as we wait for the day to break. We have grown up and grown a little wiser (I hope). But we are the same girls we were then.

Four hours doesn't seem enough. But in that four hours, we talked about our lives, our loves, our passions, dreams and ambitions, our secret fears and the things we hold in our hearts. We talked about babies and dogs and movies and books and shitty politics and deplorable health care systems, careers, finances, food and travel. We talked about family, old friends and new friends, and of those who have passed on but left indelible marks on our lives.

It's true I have lots of best friends. But these two people, whose differences compliments with mine, and whose sameness forge bonds unbroken by time and distance, are my soul sisters.