Turning 30 with my comrade.

My 30th birthday is rapidly approaching. I've been trying to decide what, if anything, that means.
I don't feel particularly excited nor depressed just somewhere in the middle - reflective, I think. 30 makes me think about where I've been and where I'm going. My 20's haven't been so easy. I've made TONS of mistakes and would never want to go back to 20 and do it again. At times, it's been rough. Not all bad, obviously, I met and married Ross (and not just because he's part of this blog) but that was definitely the highlight of my 20's. Moving to NY was a good one too.
However, at 29 approaching 30, I'm sitting on the edge of motherhood and that's pretty frightening for obvious reasons.

I'm lucky, though, to have my 20's comrade. I thought she was a "companion" but I didn't like the definition. She's an "intimate friend"; a comrade. I call her my furkid but she's really more than that. She's lived through all the fun and all the tragedy - and roommates, friends, boyfriends, jobs, apartments, houses, school, other dogs, cats, etc. And she's still with me. She's curled up on my pillow every night snoring away. She's slowing down a bit. She has a tough time getting up and keeping up. She frequently falls asleep outside the bathroom door on guard duty and we often have to step over her. Right now, she's snoozing away under my feet. Where she's been for the past 10 years.

So, on July 19, when I'm celebrating my 30th birthday, I truly owe my thanks to Mollie - my comrade. I couldn't ask for a better intimate friend.