Today my stepson, Rory, turns 30.
I’ve known him since he was about 9½.
He’s staying with us for a few days at the moment. Our relationship is a good one, and last night the two of us were chatting in the kitchen long after everyone else had gone to bed.
30 seems like such a big milestone. In an odd way, it now feels like he’s now in the same age bracket as me, even though I’m 14½ years older.
I think the thing about turning 30, is you are now, definitely, can’t-pretend-any-longer, a grown-up. If your life isn’t going the way you want it to, you have to sort it out yourself. You can no longer blame your schooling, your boss or your parents, and you cannot wait around in the hope that someone else is going to come along and change your life for you.
If that was going to happen, it would have happened already.
Physically, we go through our most rapid changes in our teens. But it is through our 20s that we change the most mentally – when we really become the adult. In many ways, at 20 years old, we have more in common with our 12-year old self, than we do with out 30-year old self.
Certainly now, I see Rory as more comfortable in his own skin than at any time in the past.
I can no longer call him a good lad. Now I have to say he’s a good man, and I’m proud to be his stepfather.
Happy Birthday Rory.