I love getting older. But I really do hate getting older.

In her words, she doesn’t feel any different now to how she did at 19. And I am beginning to understand. I meet teenagers and I believe that we are closer in age that I am to their parents…only I am not.
I have lines, varicose veins and saggy boobs that are starting to tell my own stories of life experience. Peppa pig’s mum (who is very very mumsy and seems very old to me) is the same age as I am, and the more I see ‘Daddy pig’ the more I can see my husband rather than my own Dad (sorry James.)

And in one way, I absolutely love it.

Few conversations are met without my own personal anecdote or experience to draw on and relate to. I have collected a ton of memories and I love how I have learnt about the world and myself within all of them. I appreciate small things and have learnt to develop an inner confidence that I did not have before.

But likewise, as we age, so do those around us. People get older and sadly eventually pass away. More recently I have lost a few important people close to me and it almost feels like the closing of an entire chapter of my life. I am lucky to reach 33 whilst maintaining close relationships with people who surrounded me during my youth. Yet, like all good things, it doesn’t last forever.

More and more photographs have images of people who are no longer walking around and with us.

In a (terrible) film I watched recently, it said ‘you can not enjoy the rainbow, without enduring the rain.’ And this is a wonderful way to say it. If we want to have life experience and great people around us, we have to cope when they maybe are not here.

Enjoy each day, but I guess we also need to learn to move on when the time is right?