Twenty two is my favorite number; it’s also my dad’s and two brothers'. There’s not much of a reason for it, I just think we all heard my dad claim it and decided we agreed. Nowadays it’s something we point out to each other as special—if I see it as a house number I take a picture to document it, if a player on our favorite soccer team has the jersey number it makes for a good first impression. The number two is in most of our birthdays, which is odd considering only my dad based his choice on that fact, and the rest of us didn’t. But it makes me happy, and every time I see the number in the wild, it reminds me of them.
I turned twenty two this year, which for some reason means I have high expectations. There’s something about turning your favorite age—it should be special. Twenty two came with the expectation of graduation and hopefully getting a job, but to be honest neither have been the highlight I expected. The pandemic took my favorite year in that regard, but it brought with it something better. Twenty two brought me unexpected time with family, and new additions to it. We welcomed not only a new wonderful sister in law, but two new babies, my nephews Ben and James, into our family. The year worked out in a way that brought the family together, right on time to be there for each other through their own big events.