The In Between

I recently told a friend that I felt like a plastic bag floating in the wind. Untethered, desperately trying to hold on to something but intrinsically aware that I am not in control. We were discussing age. The conversation on everyone’s lips these days seems to be: how are we about to be thirty? My peers are questioning if they did enough in their twenties, if they did too much, and how they will relay that to their future partner, if they feel younger than they are or if the number is starting to feel childish the closer they get. Funny enough, when describing how I felt, I clarified that that feeling is completely detached from the concept of age. It is simply where I find myself in the present moment, regardless of the fact that two months from today, I will no longer be 29.