At 17 (+10)
I turned 27 this weekend, in the most blissful place possible, the beach.
Maybe this growing up thing ain’t so bad, I thought, as I wiggled my toes into the sand and lay down the and smelled the salty air that always makes me hungry for uni. It was a trip we finalized the night before, and just planned as adults. We got into the car, decided our own itinerary, and headed for the North, to one of my favorite shores on earth, San Juan, La Union.
Why do I love San Juan? It’s easy. People are nice. Resorts don’t charge entrance. You can buy a beer at one place, and drink it on the shore, in front of any place. You can get salmon sashimi that’s oh so fresh.So back to the growing up thing.
27. Not really a momentous age. Nothing changes except a number. No milestones except for the ones you make. It’s not like it’s 25 that makes it a quarter life, or 30 that shoves you into adulthood. It just ages you.
For me, it’s a milestone year. This is my last one pre-marriage. The last one before the adulthood really kicks in. I wanted to make it fun, and spend it somewhere where I felt the best, with the people I loved most. The beach, the fiance and my family. True, things didn’t go exactly to plan, things were missed, some people had other responsibilities to take care of, and conditions weren’t truly perfect, but at that moment, all was well.
I would like to spend the rest of my life, with my birthdays in front of a beach. If that’s not a life goal, I don’t know what is.