There’s a famous quote that’s stuck with me lately: “There are years that ask questions and years that answer,” from Zora Neale Hurston’s novel, Their Eyes Were Watching God. It beautifully captures the dichotomy we experience in life—years when we’re rewarded with joyful times and clarity that we’re on the right path, and other years when we face uncertainty, loss, and question whether life will start making sense again.
During the years that ask questions, you may experience life-altering grief, continuous failure, unexpected change, or simply feel unsure of where you’re supposed to be headed. But this is the period where we learn most about ourselves and become who we are meant to—because these years are also marked by substantial wisdom and growth.
Particularly this year, I turned 27. Often an overlooked age, it was significant for me—recognizing I’m no longer an early- or mid-twentysomething; thirty is imminent. I’m not old by any means, but for the first time, I’ve grieved my youthfulness. My hair has begun greying and my body is holding weight differently, my responsibilities at work have become more serious, and the quest to find love and settle down feels more like a priority.
Particularly this year, I turned 27. Often an overlooked age, it was significant for me—recognizing I’m no longer an early- or mid-twentysomething; thirty is imminent.
Rather than frolicking from fabulous plan to fabulous plan like I did when younger, with the belief that my life would be everlasting, this year has led to a number of questions: Am I still as pretty, and how will I look when I’m actually old? Will I be able to maintain work-life balance as I move up in my career? Does a man out there exist who truly makes my life better?
These questions have filled my head this past year, and the subtle change to “more adult” has been uncomfortable. But also, the shift to the later twenties has been an incredible blessing.
I’ve learned to be kind to myself and accept my changing, healthy body (it’s okay to ditch the jean shorts I’ve had since 19). I’ve landed a career where I’m respected and rewarded for excelling, so it’s worth it to put in the extra hours (advertising, am I right?). And, I’ve realized that although I’ve endured some dating fails (that’s putting it lightly), I put myself first and value deep connection—and that’s why finding love is far more rare.
As I’ve moved through this new stage, I’ve found it to be a year that’s been full of questions. But as I write this, I realize the years that ask questions also bring profound answers and lessons.
💛And here’s a poem I wrote about this season of life. 💛
Something has shifted in me, not seismic
more like how the Moon
moves 3 cm from Earth each year
I push, push away—like an armless sea creature
from old habits, attachments,
the foolhardiness of an early twentysomething
7 am mornings, novels with travel & magical realism
YouTube yoga, chemical-free creams,
finding joy in dinner parties,
wait, I actually like being a homebody
valuing conversation with my father,
blessed to have a healthy grandmother
spring weekends spent daytripping
rather than losing hours daydrinking
searching for kindness, reliableness in a man
rather than plucking out the most cocky, fickle specimen
experiencing the first signs of greys, fine lines
but not the least bit terrified
because I like the person I’ve become
a whole lot more than who I was…
Julia Burke 