Dear Reader,
I am turning 24 this month and I do not know how I feel about it. Actually, I know how I feel about it, not good. For all of my life I have always been excited to be one year older because that meant I could do more things and was automatically cooler than the current age I was at. But after turning 21, turning a year older wasn’t as exciting anymore, and really kind of scary for the first time. It makes me feel really weird, that ten years older than me is 34, which in truth isn’t that old, but in my head it’s still way older than me, because I’m only like 19. And then there are the inevitable thoughts of, “Do I have enough to show for the years that I have been on this earth?” It’s hard to measure that when you have always measured your accomplishments by academic status, but I haven’t been academic anything since 2020, when I graduated college. Mid-twenties can be kind of weird, because you still wonder why everyone is talking to you like an adult when you are still a kid until you realize that it is because they view you as a competent adult. But then the next moment you are a little frustrated because someone is treating you like a kid who doesn’t have any experience with their job, even though you just coached them on how to find a file on their computer over the phone.
What is really strange is when I hear my dad talking about the cowboys he has worked with since I was little. The men who were just old men are now either ancient or gone. The men who were just middle aged are now getting to be the older men, and the young men are now suddenly middle aged with middle school children. And I am now the age of the young men that I knew when I was just the kid on the crew. Now my little brother is the kid on the crew and not tag-along baby brother that I would have to keep an eye on while we gathered the herd. He doesn’t even ride the horse that I broke in high school anymore, lately he’s started riding a horse he started training.
It’s startling to realize you are getting older, but it can be downright shocking when other people get older. My dad has more gray hairs and gets up from his chair with a little more effort after a long day. The men I grew up with who were the ones to jump in to flank calves now let the younger ones do the heavy lifting. My little brother rides in a regular saddle now, not a kid one anymore; he has outgrown kid saddles for years, but it just now seems like I am noticing it. My little sister who is about to graduate high school suddenly has an agenda for the week, even though she has probably has had one since middle school. My youngest sister who I feel should still be in middle school already has an itinerary for her summer travels with family. Even my sister who is closest to me in age is suddenly talking to customers about their horses that she is training or coordinating the delivery of braiding orders, the little sister who I always did the taking for.
I always thought the phrase “age is just a number” was stupid because age means a lot. It means a life lived and experiences to tell. It can also mean gray hairs and sore joints, but those are signs of a life lived. I never really understood why it is considered rude to ask someone how old they; it just tells you how many times they have gone around the sun. Age means more life lived than last year, and at the same time, less life to live than last year. I am not worried about running out of years necessarily, it is just an uncomfortable realization of how many years have already gone by without my approval.
The other day, while discussing the “get to know you” question of the day at night church, I said that my favorite birthday present was a watch that I had gotten for my 10th birthday. One of the little girls responded loudly, but genuinely, “That was a long time ago!” And after some thought I agreed, 14 years is a long time ago, especially if you are seven. I can only imagine how old I make my coworkers feel sometimes.
Sincerely and Maturingly Yours,
The Rancher’s Daughter
Best yet!, Tearfully yours
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