It’s been ten years since I was 25.
In that time I got married, moved from DC, to Boston, back to DC, then to New Jersey. I popped out two baby boys, started and quit my own photography business, bought a house, bought a dog, got Lasik, got rid of cancerous cells on my cervix, lost all four of my grandparents, gained 20 pounds, coxswained for a team of Marine Corps rowers, met Al Gore, watched every episode of Grey’s Anatomy multiple times, voted for Obama, visited Paris and Punta Cana, and wrote a novel. Not in that order.
All in all it’s been eventful and fun.
But now I’m restless.
Restlessness is dangerous if isn’t channeled correctly.
I think I’ll go paint the basement.