30 took a while to digest. It got caught in my throat on the way down and I tasted it every time I hit a bump in the road. And even though it took a while to settle, it feels good to recognize where I’ve been and who I’ve become along the journey. Yes, “the books I have read” (and all the tacos I have eaten) have made me, but the people I’ve met and loved, the experiences I’ve had, the moments of bravery, the failures, and the places I’ve been–they have also made me. Sorry, Emerson.
And as I write and reflect today, coffee in hand and gratitude in my heart, the prelude to the next adventure wafts through the air.
