23

Funny story: I forgot how old I was turning this year. I couldn't remember if I would be 22 or 23. I had to ask David after almost an entire afternoon of deliberating. I talked with my mom about this. Her first response was "you know, they say that is a sign of dementia". Wonderful! We joked for a little bit, and she informed me that she always forgets how old she is. The older she gets the less likely she is to remember. Age just stops being important at some point. Okay, but I'm not that old. 23 isn't old. Especially when you still feel 14, maybe 16 on a mature day. Maybe I'm at the point where age doesn't matter? I guess I could be. Its been a full 23 years.

18 years of education.(Including a few especially rough one's in the middle years, heaven help middle schoolers).

4 years of seminary.

I've lived in a whopping 3 cities.

I fell in love.

I've learned to ride, to play the flute, to share, to match my clothes, to do my hair, to plant, to forgive, to teach, to want, to sing, to grow, to change.

I've enjoyed friends, and the temple, and fairy wands.

I've remembered my Big Brother, and my Father.

23 years of laughing with my sisters, and hugs from my mom. 23 years to learn how to love.

23 years to learn how to cook.

In 23 years I've discovered I love to sing, and to see people smile.

In 23 years I've figured out how far from perfect I am, and how okay that is.

I suppose another 23 years will go this quickly too. Maybe I'll feel 23 instead of 14 when it happens. Maybe we'll do another list then. So wish me luck, I'm off again. Here I come 46! See ya in a bit...