I have officially entered my late twenties.  A bigger transformation than I originally expected.  For starters, my music selection became more pleasing to my picky roommates.  I personally don’t mind jamming to dance party music around the clock, that was, until I turned 28. 

The bones creek just a little more, the foam roller has become less helpful, but I find my internal clock resorting to a daily 5:57 wake up time.  Since I was 16 I’ve wanted to live and work in Africa.  And then I got here indefinitely, and have spent more than my fair share of complaining about and resisting the changes necessary to be here indefinitely.  I think we are born to adapt, and resistance is a learned behavior.  But the one thing that doesn’t change is who you are. 

Experience helps to clarify and reveal things you may not have wanted to admit.  I’ve recently committed to calling Kenya “home.” Shorter nights, longer hangovers, more traffic…

This is exactly who I’ve dreamed of being. Exactly what I’ve dreamed of doing, and perhaps a dose of challenges I should have expected.  “Late twenties” seems an underwhelming expression for feeling comfortable in my own skin, seeing my life and work develop into something meaningful, and keeping an open mind to what the future holds.  I call it, “the best is yet to come.”

My 28th birthday party ended around 12am on the 23rd.  A low key night by any standard. I was asked to make a speech in front of a group that I was 65% familiar with, and a pile of cake iced lovingly by well intentioned friends.  Feeling out of place, I mumbled some gratitude and held my glass up for the toast.  I wish I could go back and thank my new family for being my friends before I knew I needed them.  It feels good to be “home.”