When I was a child, I had always dreamt of the day I would turn 25. For some reason, that was this age when I would have it all. At 25, I would be the most beautiful and have everything I had ever wanted—my pipe dream. Never cared about being 21 or 30; it was always 25. However, one thing about me is that I don’t settle, and I’m constantly challenging myself to do more and ultimately be happy. It is strange that I’m almost not 25 anymore and I have no new age to wonder what I’ll be like. It is a relief but also I’m starting to feel like stall bread.
When I first turned 25, it was the first year I felt older on that given day. I also had all of these expectations of my life at 25. I have always been happy, give or take a few heartaches. On my 25th birthday, the birthday was so uneventful that my reservation for dinner was canceled. They said sorry can’t serve you; you are single. The first year everyone forgot to send flowers; typically, my parents always remember. To remind me that I’m a year older, wiser, but still single and just forgotten (not forgotten, but I did feel it then). I had this anxiety that this is how the most incredible year of my life is starting; getting rejected from this fancy waterfront restaurant on the lake in Bellevue, WA. So I went out and had an entire pizza by myself and a slice of coconut cream pie. At that moment, it hit me. This is another day, another year, doing what I love; eating two of my favorite foods. My birthday foreshowed what the year was to come; no plan; do what I love.
In July, I was in Seattle, enjoying the little bit of sun that city has to offer. I was starting to lose who I had worked so hard to become, living in a town that didn’t offer me anything, surrounded by no one I knew. A week after turning 25, I left for a trip to Iceland and then to Paris to spend three weeks alone. I didn’t think anything of it; until I fell in love with being in Europe alone. So I booked a one-way ticket back and stayed until near the start of the new year. When I got to Europe, I knew that when I returned to Seattle, I would need to move on from it; it did nothing for me, and I knew that immediately. A city is much like a man; you know, after a month. Keep doing him, or move the heck on.
I was nervous to tell my boss I was not returning to Seattle and would need to quit my team to find a new team in NYC. But I was never given the option, just an okay move back. So finally, a few months into being 25, I got the OK to move back, got a promotion, and lived temporarily in Europe. Life couldn’t get much better; my pipe dream at ten had come true.
At ten, I had imagined; I would be living somewhere near the beach in Central California with my husband, but that all seems so dull now; sure, it will happen one day, but at 25 was not the time nor age for that. That is the point; one day, maybe at 35, I will have a husband and kids; but for now, I am not saying no to life’s opportunities point.
Moving back to NY (or NJ) has not been that eventful. My life has calmed down a bit which I love. Still endlessly dating and getting heartbroken daily, but now that I am about to be 26, it just doesn’t seem to bother me as it used it. I feel more confident than I have ever been before in my career. I will also be spending my 26th birthday with actual humans haven’t done that in a few years. Each year my life gets better and better; 26 will be unique, I know. My ten-year-old self would be proud and happy I am a single woman taking on NY just like we pictured ourselves to do for so long. For the first year, I don’t have a plan or a vision of what it will look like. I’m just going to wing it. I leave the day after my birthday to the South of France, another vacation solo. How I love it; everyone asks me what I am doing on vacation? My answer is: who knows; everything.
The Life of Sarah 