I feel 21.
Or maybe 28, as that is the year of my tsunami. Before that, I'd experienced nothing worse than a pet dying or a teen boyfriend break-up, usually with another prospect closely following. On my 28th birthday, my husband left. I was eight months pregnant and on the first day of a maternity leave from teaching that I had hoped wouldn't end until some years (and two or three more children) later. In the chronology of my life, there's this big, bold slash in-between "up to 28" and "after 28".
On second thought, I really feel some age post-28, having long ago healed and deemed the ensuing character growth the best thing to have happened to me. Other than having and raising my son.
Still, feeling post-28 is a lot younger than feeling 59 years and eight months, exactly.