One of my latest visitors declared my new space "all grown up." Today I had a conversation that wasn't easy but needed to be had and I walked away feeling very much the adult.
Strange isn't? No matter how many lines inch their way around my eyes or how many colors are needed to hold back the gray, I continue to question how I got the mature role.
Aren't I still 16 and secretly scoffing and rolling my eyes? Or at least in my 20s, full of passion and promise? Certainly, I just made it to my 30s when being clueless seemed somehow correct.
No, here I am -- 46 and happy to still be learning what playing house is all about.