Tag: Thirty

I thought thirty would look a little something like this…

Happily married.  Two children under the age of five.  A 2,200 sq ft “cottage” with a white picket fence, solar power, grey water, and a chicken coop.  A career (lawyer, real estate agent, POTUS) that generated considerable financial success.  A published book that resulted in moderate national renown.  Home-cooked Sunday brunches hosted in the backyard (all eggs provided by aforementioned chickens and produce provided by the yet-to-be-mentioned hydroponic garden) with a mimosa in hand, scratchy jazz playing, and a spattering of the most interesting, accomplished, jet-setting company that one could imagine.

No, no, no, I hadn’t put much thought into it.  None at all.

The truth was that I had put so much thought into it that it had become real.  I believed that this entire world existed and that the day I hit thirty I would magically acquire all of it.  I don’t know if I thought the hard work I had put in would cause it to just appear.  I don’t know if I thought it would come my way via osmosis.  I didn’t think much about the “how”… I just focused on the “why.”

Why?

Because I believed that was the script that would result in happiness.  I hadn’t even considered an alternative script.  There was no alternative.

Until I turned thirty.

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