The year I was 25 was my favorite year yet. It was the year I loosened my grip a little bit. The year I finally felt like I was on solid ground.
The year I was 25, I lived in a little healing house with one of my best friends and the world’s best dog. We cooked dinner together, gave each other career advice, watched a lot of true crime and reality TV, and had each other’s backs. Together, we began to let out the breath we’d been holding in.
And at 25, because of that healing house and that fierce friendship, I walked more confidently in the world. I moved on, I let go, and I opened my heart to something real.
When I was 25, I texted the redhead I swore I’d never date that my friends had picked me up for the weekend, but he could swing by and grab a note I left for him in the bed of my truck. “I’m willing to give this a shot,” I wrote.
And so, the year I was 25, my life forever changed. He’s my dancing partner, climbing buddy, flight-catching, road trip-taking, country concert singing, life partner. He patiently waited while I sorted out my feelings and never waivered in the knowledge that for him, it was me.
Together, we explored San Deigo, drank along the Bourbon Trail in Kentucky, and met family in Wisconsin, Ohio, and West Virginia. We celebrated birthdays and holidays. We created a joint playlist, bought a house, and did the Wordle together every night.
The Year I was 25, I became a dog mom. I met a chaotic little cattle dog named Dottie and was completely bamboozled into taking her home. She ripped up pillows, ate the tassels off my rug, and dug holes in the yard. She became my little adventure buddy and the love of my life.
I’m entering 26 feeling so wildly lucky to live the life that I do. I have the best friends, an adoring partner, a puppy, and a job that I love. I’ve learned how to sail, I spend one morning a week taking care of horses, and I am surrounded by the most beautiful community. Here’s to 26!
