Today and tomorrow are kind of weird for me. A roller-coaster mix of bitter and sweet and nostalgia and feelings I can’t quite put a finger on.

Today would have been my Grandma’s 90th birthday. There are very few days that go by that I don’t still thinking about her, that I don’t miss her. She meant the world to me, and it always breaks my heart that she never got to meet my husband or kids. That there’s nothing I can do to change that.

Then tomorrow is my 30th birthday. How did I get to be thirty anyway? I think back to when I was in high school or college and what I thought my life at thirty would be like. I’m not sure I even remember, but I know I thought I’d feel older, more like an adult. I might have a husband, two kids, a mortgage, and a fledgling writing career, but a lot of times I feel less than adult. Like I’m just playing at it.

So much of this publishing business is about waiting, and sometimes I get so caught up in it everything else falls away. I forget to enjoy the moment in front of me because I’m so desperate to know what’s next. My kids are little, but I’m going to blink and they’re going to be too heavy to hold, too cool to snuggle, too proud to ask for help.

If there’s anything I want to be better at in my thirties it’s slowing down and enjoying what I have without obsessing over what’s next.

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