I’m just glad I’m among friends here — who won’t judge me for being youthfully-challenged. Besides, there’s a beneficial trade-off for the added wrinkles, extra pounds (though I’ve been working on whittling those away), and hints of gray hair starting to declare their presence at my temples — I’ve broadened my horizons, gained some perspective, and, I’d like to think, acquired a modicum of wisdom along the way.

Reflecting back, there are fairly striking differences between 30-year-old me and almost-54-year-old me. 30-year-old me hated any sort of dark beer; present-day me adores coffee stouts, chocolate milk stouts, porters — anymore, light beer just seems to pale in comparison (if you’ll pardon the pun). 30-year-old me didn’t much care for wine — at best, you could get me to sip at a White Zinfandel; present-day me enjoys a variety of vino. Though I remain partial to the sweeter wines, like Rieslings or Gewürztraminers, I can now enjoy a decent Chardonnay or Pinot Grigio. I’ve even grown to like some red wines, though, I confess, I still prefer them chilled. (I know, I’m an embarrassment to wine connoisseurs everywhere.)

30-year-old me couldn’t stand tomatoes — I could deal with tomato soup or salsa, but plain old tomatoes? Nyet. Now? I enjoy a slice on a burger or sandwich — and I’m a big fan of Caprese salads. And salmon? Ooph — that would have been a serious no. But now, it’s one of my favorite entrees. Speaking of food, 30-year-old me consumed a steady diet of fast food. I worked 40-50-hour weeks and had a lengthy commute, so it was just easier a lot of the time. Plus, my metabolism hadn’t yet chugged into slow-mo, so I could get away with it. Present-day me consumes far less fast food. I try to follow a largely Mediterranean Diet — which, I often point out isn’t really a diet-diet, in that it’s not terribly restrictive. It’s just about eating healthier. I don’t adhere to it strictly — but I don’t wander far from it. And in return, I’ve managed to shave off 20 unwanted pounds and have far fewer aches and pains than I did a few years ago (it’s anti-inflammatory, too).

30-year-old me preferred alternative rock with a dash of pop. Today, I’m partial to country and classic rock — when I’m not listening to talk radio or my favorite podcasts, one of which happens to be A Very Merry Podcast (which RedState’s own Kira Davis hosts, along with our good friend Amelia Hamilton). You see, while 30-year-old me alternated between WB Shows like “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and “Dawson’s Creek” and medical or crime dramas, like “ER” or “NYPD Blue” — with a dash of “Ally McBeal” — decidedly middle-aged me rarely turns the channel from Hallmark anymore (other than maybe for sports or super-hot news stories). That’s right, sappy, sentimental, old me loves nothing more than to curl up with a glass of wine and a Hallmark movie on a quiet evening.

30-year-old me had no idea what — or who — I wanted to be when I grew up. Yes, I was fully an adult — married, a homeowner, a senior associate in a law firm. But I wasn’t really grown up — not in a lot of ways. There were friends and loved ones in my life then who no longer are, whether they’ve moved on from this plane or, simply moved on. And there are friends and loved ones now whom I hadn’t yet the slightest inkling of — most notably, my now-20-year-old daughter, of whom I’m inordinately proud, and my wonderful, handsome beau, who loves me so well and has been my rock, after I spent far too long wobbling through shifting sands.

My worldview has seen a remarkable shift, as well. While I considered myself a Christian, I hadn’t yet fully connected with my faith in a meaningful way, whereas now, it’s an integral part of who I am. Politically, my younger self was still a diehard liberal (in the classical sense, not the present-day, progressive sense). My move towards political conservatism began in my thirties, and led me to involvement in grassroots activism, blogging, and podcasting. So the 30-year-old litigator is now an almost-54-year-old writer, editor, and on-air radio personality. Nope — younger me did not see that on the horizon.

All of which reminds me — I don’t know what the next year will hold, much less, the next 24 or 25. But I do know this: Despite the countless bumps and detours I’ve encountered along the way, I have, indeed, come a long way. And the road ahead looks promising.