I am, officially, 30. Or, I was officially 30 on Tuesday, but I’m just now getting around to blogging about it.
Though I’ve heard lots about how 30 feels like such a depressing age to many women, I can’t say I’m experiencing that. I feel like I am just now getting my life in order and on track, and part of that is because I’m aging and maturing. So turning thirty doesn’t seem like a depressing concept to me.
But my birthday has meant one thing–our time here in England is drawing to a close. In fact, we fly back to the states in less than 4 weeks now. No more knit nights and Anne and Moms and Tots Mass and Toddler Group…no more of so many of the things that have made this past year one to remember.
So maybe thirty has been a sad birthday, after all, but not for the reasons I’ve anticipated. Thirty is definitely going to be the end of something in my life.