When I turned twenty-five, I stared down the face of thirty. Fear was palpable. I slid down my last half of my twenties in a haze, landing at my dreaded age with arms full of a newborn. I always heard, if you blink, it would become ten years later. I’ve blinked, and I now stare down forty, standing in the middle of my thirties. The fear has not waned. I stand here with two children now, one in school and the other giving sass. I force my eyes wide to let the air dry them out, petrified to blink again.
another 100 word challenge from velvetverbosity's site.