On Friday, March 12, I became 57 years old. I say “became” because I’ve never liked saying “turned.” Either way, I’m 57.

It doesn’t really seem possible. In my mind, I’m a young girl growing up and going to school in Arab.

I’m several different ages. I’m a 12-year-old girl traveling out West seeing this country’s National Parks with my family.

I see Old Faithful in Yellowstone, the glaciers in Glacier National Park, the majesty of The Grand Canyon, and I am in awe at seeing those four presidents on Mount Rushmore.

I’m a 13-year-old girl maneuvering her way through junior high with all its challenges, looking forward to high school and wondering what my adult life would be like.

I’m also an 18-year-old teenager that had the world at her fingertips. I thought I would do amazing things and solve the world’s problems.

Other days, I’m 20 years old in college at Auburn University. I hate to say that because the Tribune editor is strictly an Alabama fan, but it’s true and I’m sticking to it.

I loved my days at Auburn, but it took three separate times of being enrolled there to finish my bachelor’s degree.

I bounced around several state colleges and universities before getting my act together and finishing my degree in social work.

For more on this story please pick up Thursday's Tribune or purchase an e-edition.

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