Tick Tock to 30

I went for a drive today because that’s what I do when I don’t know what else to do but I know I need to get up and move. I hate being stagnant for too long.

I pulled up to the stop sign at Rhody and Kingwood streets where a little Scientology church sits on the corner. I was right on time with my windows down and my music cranked up to see a couple of little old ladies walking to their cars, wearing little old lady dresses and bright white sneakers.

I screeched around the corner so they could hear the roar of my Dodge Ram. I smiled as I imagined them shaking their heads at the poor heathen, “Damn kids these days.”

I laughed to myself, thinking they probably had no idea I’m almost thirty. Then it hit me. I’m almost thirty. And on a Sunday morning I’m driving around town disturbing little old ladies walking out of churches.

I mentally sat myself down for one of those intense life conversations you usually have with your parents, mid-way through your freshman year of college after they find out you’re failing every course but Human Anatomy.

Is this really what I thought life would be like at this point? Living in a two bedroom apartment with another almost-30-and-single-girlfriend, working for the weekend, selling insurance in order to fund said weekends?

The only thing I have in life right now that I’ve always really wanted is a truck. And it’s a pretty badass truck. My parents always laughed at my desire for a truck and talked me out of it on a couple occasions. That stubborn streak finally came through for me though and I reveled in the joy ride I took them on in that truck when they visited a few months ago.

But I digress.

What exactly did I think my life would be like at this point?

I guess I honestly expected to be living in a house with my husband who had a great corporate job, our two children, a dog, a I of course would be writing my own syndicated column from home. And that, my friend, is the problem with expectations. They are usually wildly unrealistic and always carry along a heavy dose of disappointment.

Is that really what you wanted? Because quite frankly, you had that option a long time ago and you opted out. So maybe you should rethink a few things. (I realize I’m talking to myself here but that thought came out of no where.)

Well I suppose a few segments of that ideal are what I want. I mean, I have been telling myself for the last ten years that’s what I want.

But maybe that was never really my dream, so much as someone else’s dream for me. And maybe I opted out of all those things ten years ago because I realized that none of those things were worth sacrificing my own happiness for. Maybe happiness is what I’ve always wanted and whatever things or people bring that into my life is what I chose to surround myself with. And maybe that looks more like a wildly colored picture and less like the stark black and white photo of life I was handed.

That’s a whole lot of maybe. But that’s the thing about life; it’s full of maybe and possibility and uncertainty. We never know what’s right around the corner.

And when I don’t know what else to do, I jump in my truck, roll down the windows, turn the music up, and drive. I don’t know where I’ll end up or who I’ll see. But I’m always better for having taken the ride.