The Last Day of Thirty-Nine

Today is the last day I'll ever be in my thirties. That sentence feels strange to write. Not scary. Just... surreal.

For the past week, I've been looking backward. I've revisited memories I hadn't thought about in years, laughed at stories I had almost forgotten, and cried over moments that somehow still carry the same weight they did when they happened. When I first started writing these chapters, I thought I was simply documenting forty years of my life. I thought I was writing about where I'd been. Instead, I found myself understanding why those moments mattered. I met the little girl who always wondered if she was enough. The teenager who worked so hard to fit in that she forgot she was already worthy. The young woman who believed every new achievement would finally make her feel successful. The version of me who thought she had to earn her place in every room she walked into.

For a long time, I thought life was about arriving. If I could just build the business... If I could just find the right person... If I could just make enough money... If I could just get through this season... Then I'd finally feel like I had made it. But life has a funny way of teaching you that there is no finish line. There is only today.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped living for the next milestone. I started paying attention to the ordinary moments instead. Morning coffee before work. Laughing until we couldn't breathe over something completely ridiculous. Wedding days that reminded me why love still matters. Watching Anthony build something with his own two hands. Unlocking the office every morning. Seeing familiar faces walk through the doors at Night Owl. Dinner after a long day. A quiet evening at home. Those are the moments that became my life. Not the big ones. The little ones.

If there's one thing writing this series has taught me, it's that I spent so many years believing I was becoming someone. As if one day I'd wake up and finally be the version of myself I'd been chasing. But maybe that's never how it works. Maybe we're never finished becoming. Maybe every season of life simply gives us another piece of ourselves back.

When I look around today, I don't see a perfect life. I see a real one. One filled with people I love. Work that fulfills me. A husband who somehow still makes me laugh every single day. Businesses that started as tiny ideas and somehow became part of our community. Friends who have become family. Memories I wouldn't trade for anything. And even the hard seasons, the heartbreak, the disappointments, the moments I thought would break me, they all led me here. I wouldn't go back and change them. Not anymore.

Tomorrow I'll wake up forty. And honestly... I'm excited. Not because I think forty means I've figured life out. It doesn't. I'm sure I'll still make mistakes. I'll still have dreams that don't work out. I'll still question myself sometimes. But for the first time in my life, I trust myself enough to know I'll find my way. That might be the greatest gift my thirties gave me. Not confidence. Not success. Not even happiness. Peace. The kind of peace that comes from knowing you don't have to prove yourself anymore. You simply get to keep becoming.

So today, on the last day of my thirties... I just want to say thank you. To every version of me that refused to give up. To every person who believed in me before I believed in myself. To every mistake that redirected me. To every closed door that quietly pointed me toward a better one. To Anthony, for building this beautiful life beside me. And to all of you who took the time to read these chapters, share your own stories with me, and remind me that we're all just trying to figure it out as we go.

Tomorrow begins a new decade. Not with fear. Not with sadness. But with gratitude. Because if my first forty years taught me anything... It's that the best parts of life were never the ones I planned. They were the ones I grew into.

Here's to forty. ❤️