When I was 23 I could not fathom being any older. It was the best age ever. I was young, thin, pretty and full of fun & life. I could eat what I wanted. I could do what I wanted. No aches. No pains. Just FUN. Kristin and Jennifer had entered my life during the 20-years and with beautiful daughters and endless energy, I bounded towards 30.
I turned 30 years old in Mexico on a holiday. Whisking in the 30-something years with glasses of tequila. Feeling good. Looking good.The 30-something years were wonderful and exciting. I was thin, fit and upwardly mobile in my career. Life could not be better.
Then approached 40-something. That fateful night just a week before I turned 40, I learned I was to be a Grandmother. Smash. Bam. Wait a minute 40 is bad enough, but a Grandmother? I took it gracefully. I turned 40, planned a wedding, and welcomed in my Grandson. The 40-years have been busy, stressful, dramatic, but blessed with four Grandchildren. My blood pressure went sky-high.
And now 50. sigh. Fifty conjures up visions of the golden years. AARP is in your mailbox. You need reading glasses. This is day one of the 50-something years and I’m not sure what to expect. Now that I have reached the 50-year mark I’m supposed to be wiser, reserved, settled. I’m waiting for the 50-year fairy to anoint me with wisdom. As I look back over the past 30 years at the highlights, I should look forward to the golden years of 50. For in these next ten years: Cash will start school. Hunter will graduate from high school. Emma will start high school. Grady will be driving. I may not be young, thin, and pretty any more but I have love in my life. And that counts for more than birthdays passing on the calendar.
