Next week, I turn 34 years old. For the first time that I can remember, I feel...sad about a birthday coming around.

This is a strange thing for me.  Never once have a mourned the loss of another year.  Never once have I felt old. I have always maintained that every year is better than the last. I am fortunate to be surrounded by amazing accomplished women in their 60s, 50s and 40s who lead lives I can only ever aspire to. I have never felt that youth the be all and end all. However, this year, something is different.

For the past few days, I have been trying to put my finger exactly on what it might be.  I have oh so much to be grateful for.  A life I love more than I ever knew possible.

And maybe that is it.  I think I am sad for all of those years of unhappiness.  All of that time I spent doing things that left me feeling empty and alone.  Those hours spent at a desk, instead of with a camera in hand.  Those days spent holding pens instead of hooks and needles.  Why didn't I follow my dreams then?  Why did it take so long to walk MY PATH, instead of the one that I thought I should?

Of course, this is utterly ridiculous. Logically I know that the past 33 years lead me to here, and I spent much of the time not knowing what I was meant to do. And in knowing this, I know that the feeling will pass. Lamenting the past when life is good is a waste of time and goodness knows I have none of that to spare. ;)

(or maybe its not this and I just don't want to get older.  Its entirely possible...)