When I was a teenager — even a child — nothing seemed better than being an adult. I kept a folder on my family’s computer of pictures that represented my future desires — to live in a city, have exotic pets, travel.
I’m now nearly 35. In many ways, my life is as I’d hoped: I have a rewarding career, a good income, my own apartment, fantastic friends. I even have two cats of the breed that, growing up, I used to scroll on Google Images. You might call it a triumph…

