I can’t believe I’m 35, but also, I’m beyond grateful. At 35, I have a home – in my husband and our daughter, living in the small but perfect house. I still have both of my parents and my parents-in-law. I and my siblings have a great relationship. My family of three is surrounded by people who love us, help us, and understand us through challenging times. Francis and I have jobs that provide us a bit more than our basic needs. Through my job, I get to write, and more importantly, help curate better books – I mean, I placed in the top five at an agency-wide writing contest and got our division the NBDB Book Nook partnership. Also, at 35, my annual physical exam results are still quite good. (I just need more iron and more water.)

If you ask me if I am living my dreams, yes. Truth is while others knew they wanted to be lawyers, doctors, teachers, artists, politicians, entrepreneurs, and more, I just wanted to have a daughter. I told no one because it’s not a career or a profession you normally think of when writing your “What I Want To Be When I Grow Up” essay. But at 35, I am the mama of this lovely and sweet two-year-old, so I can say, somehow, that I am in a place I have dreamed of. I have a better understanding and appreciation of motherhood now, too. It’s definitely not a job for everyone, and I’m thankful that it is for me.

Life at 35 is definitely not perfect. For one, I still have not gone to Japan to see Inoo Kei and now their agency has crashed. I am earning next to nothing in my government job from debts – how we’re surviving right now is by the grace of God and the love of our parents. The economy is bad. The political climate is bad. Nature is damaged beyond repair. Life is not perfect, and that’s how I am reminded to live one day at a time and appreciate every second of it.

To those who have made the first half of my life worth living, thank you.

Here’s to better things.