Even with a Delorean, one can only move forward in age.

Tonight someone commented on the friends I've made in Austin, incredulous at the number I've accumulated in a relatively short time being here.

At first, I pointed out the friends with us who were from other places, whom I'd met long before. But then I realized that he was right.

I don't know why God decided that I should be so loved, but I'm grateful to Him for it. I only hope that I can return that love at every opportunity, to show others what they mean to me, to care for them and love them and return the abundance of blessings I've been given by their presence.

*****

In five days, or four if you're in the Eastern time zone, I will turn 25. Tonight I celebrated in the way to which I've grown accustomed: with a game of laser tag. What started out as a funny idea four years ago has become my favorite event of the year, a tradition that has continued with every turn of the calendar despite changes in geography and life and social circles.

I can tell you stories about every year of the tradition. Wonderful, unique stories that changed from year to year. I can tell you not everyone who attended, but many of the key people, friends who came once or year after year, but who left an impression on me that made them unforgettable.

*****

A year ago at this time, I was making a list: 25 things to do before I turned 25. I don't even have to look at it to tell you the results. There are some things I accomplished right away, some that I anguished over the thought of. There are some that came easily, and there are some that I failed miserably at, remaining tucked away in the back of my mind, waiting for me to buckle down and crank them out.

At the time that I wrote it and shared it with you, I had intended to return to it in a year, to tell you what I'd done and hadn't done. And yet the list became, in the course of the last year, during which it was alternately celebrated and ignored, intensely personal. My accomplishments, some of which happened under circumstances that I wouldn't have expected or desired, became something to hold close to my heart, not ready to be out in the open, under the glare of the sun.

 *****

On Thursday, I will be 25. I will go to bed on Wednesday night as a 24-year-old, and wake up with a new digit by which to describe myself.

It's a moment I've been dreading for months. Something about 25 makes you stop, makes you think, makes you analyze where you are in life, whether you ever expected to be in that place or not. It makes you wonder, if you're single like me, what you've done wrong that you've spent the last few years watching your friends build their white picket fences while you march into your late 20s alone. It makes you look at your bank account, your bills, your job, and your friends, and question whether you're making the right decisions with any or all of them because after all, you're not getting younger and you really ought to be thinking about these things.

Age may be just a number. But my number speaks to the wisdom of passing out of youth, to the energy that still puts a spring in my step, to the idealism held only by one who hasn't seen the worst of it quite yet, but the maturity of a person who's seen enough, and to the opportunity to make something more of what I have.

As the day approaches, I'm finding peace with that number.

*****

In five days, or four if you're in the Eastern time zone, I will turn 25. And if tonight is any indication, it's going to be a wonderful year.