I’m 26 years old. I am a twenty-something. I can no longer say that I am a young adult or that I’m in my early twenties. I have my feet solidly in my twenties. I look back to those angsty teenage years and those rocky early twenties, and I am filled with awe and wonder. Where has all the time gone? Have I changed? Who have I become?
I’m at the point in my life when I can still remember those early years and still be able to look forward to what is coming next. I remember the day that I turned 10 and how super excited I was to finally be in the double digits. I remember turning 13, excited about changes and middle school.
And then I remember turning eighteen, excited about high school graduation and the college years. Eighteen signified adulthood, independence, voting rights, and college. Eighteen was the magic number, sandwiched between the awkward teen years and impending adulthood.
Turning twenty was another momentous event. It marks the end of adolescence and the official beginning of adulthood. I could finally say that I was in my twenties. I was no longer a child. I could finally start to make my mark on the world. Even at twenty, I was still filled with dreams. I wanted to join the Peace Corps and help people. I wanted to help people better themselves.
Even now, at 26, that desire hasn’t changed. I’d like to go forward with my degree and work for a non-profit organization. If I can make a positive impact on even one person’s life, then I would be immensely satisfied. I want work that is meaningful and life changing. I realize that I am just a small piece in the puzzle of the world. But even that small piece can do something big and wonderful. That small piece can change the world.
I’m older and I’d like to think that I am wiser now. But I am still filled with the same idealizations and dreams that I had when I was twenty. And I’m okay with that. I am a dreamer, but I am also a fixer.