'we are turning thirty this year.' it is the last memory of the previous night's long conversation, and it stuck like a leech, draining every prospect he once had of his future, his every plan to set things straight and make lives... well... well.
and he is turning thirty. she is turning thirty. they are turning thirty. apparently, everyone he knows is turning thirty, maybe a year older or younger, but in the rough about stage of thirty when... friends are getting married, raising babies and toddlers and small angels or imps, when friends are also starting to leave and live away, when friends start to receive signs of dying and death, and when friends get stuck at dead-ends.
"what would you have then?"
"it seems either a dead-end or a crossroad. but options do open. and the prospects are hard but enriching, life-threatening maybe but life-changing. what would you have? it must be a life choice now, could it?"
"we are turning thirty this year, and options do open."
2 comments:
Once during a class, my professor said life gets better after thirty. A student, who was 32-ish said she couldn't any more. I find myself looking forward to that age sometimes.
life i think does get more real after thirty. and i just need to get across thirty for that...
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