Growing up, my mom would always tell me that she was 29. When I was 1, she was 29, when I was 10, she was 29, and somehow, when I was graduating college, still 29. So subconsciously, 29 became the age that marked adulthood to me.
It’s fitting that after 1.5 years of nonstop work, we are finally moving furniture into our first home on my 29th birthday. It’s funny how things work out. I like to think that my mom worked with the universe on the timing of this one 🌞 I guess I’m an adult now 🤷🏻♀️ Cheers to that - 1 hour ago