by Kimberly Bookman

Created on: January 28, 2009

I can feel the sand stuck under my fingernails. No matter how long I wash them in the beach bathroom, I can't get it all out. But things like this no longer bother me. As I look into the mirror above the sink, I notice my hair - pulled in a ponytail - is a bit lighter, my skin now a new bronze color. I feel good. I feel healthy. I am happy.

But it is amazing how quickly that all can change. At a restaurant near the beach, I sit at a picnic table waiting to dig into a delicious lobster, when a little man with big claws of his own, comes crawling up to me. His brown curls fall loosely on his brow, his eyes are wide and curious, his nose a bit runny. He's three years old.

"Hello!" I say wishing I could attract the older, buffer guy at the table nearby.

"Hi." my new friend replies.

"How old are you?" I ask.

And as only an innocent toddler could, he answered "Three. How old are you?"

How old am I? It's a simple enough question and I certainly know the answer it's just that I DON'T WANT TO ANSWER!

"Thirty," I say with some pause, "Well, actually 29. I'll be thirty at the end of September, which isn't that far away but far away enough to not rush it. So 29." When I look into his big eyes, I know exactly what he is thinking.

"That probably sounds old to you, doesn't it?" I ask.

"Yup." he says as rejoins his family for dinner.

And just like that, I no longer feel so good.

Thirty. It sounds old to me too. Why though? Why do I have such anxiety about that number? Perhaps its because, for me, every birthday is an evaluation of life. And by thirty, well let's put it this way, I thought I'd be somewhere else.

Currently, I'm single and not because of lack of trying. I've gone to singles events, been on multiple blind dates, tried the bars, joined clubs and activities, even allowed myself to be profiled in a magazine about singles! I look really hard and sometimes I stop looking all together, hoping he will just find me. Since nothing has taken, I decided to refocus my passion on a job.

And I couldn't choose an easy career God forbid I do anything easy! Instead I set out to be the next Katie Couric. And in that pursuit, I've jumped from TV station to TV station to "learn the ropes", "pay my dues" or whatever other clich you can think of I've just moved a whole lot for a job. And with each move, comes a new apartment, new friends, new hairdresser, new supermarket, new gym, new activities and when I finally feel settled in, I'm uprooted again. So as I approach thirty, I think

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