How does it feel to turn 30?

People have been asking me this question a lot lately. And in the weeks leading up to my milestone birthday, even I wondered how I felt about it.

Sad?

Depressed?

Old?

Regretful?

Nostalgic?

I’ve been feeling something, that’s for sure, but I haven’t quite been able to put my finger on what.

Then, this past Sunday, my kind, wonderful, good-hearted husband tried to throw me a surprise birthday party only to have two months worth of planning ruined by the holiday blizzard. He kept up the ruse all morning, but by noon he was forced to come clean about his plans. Determined to make the most of it, everyone who either lived close by or had a four-wheel drive vehicle convened for an impromptu get together to help us make sure that the birthday cake for 50 and two cases of wine didn’t go to waste.

And there, surrounded by a small group of family and friends who had ventured out despite the massive storm – and with icing and wine pumping through my veins – I finally realized how I feel about turning 30.

Grateful.