On the eve of my 39th birthday..or…as the love of my life so charmingly put it – ‘the last birthday in my 30’s’…I have a lot to say.
Shocking, I know.
A running theme in my life is my aversion to change. Amusing given that the latter half of my 38th year has seen not only change but down right upheaval.
Friends moved away, La C started school prompting untold lifestyle change including the departure of Marta my parenting rock, there was the untimely loss of someone dear to my heart, a change of address that reconstituted my day to day compass and an uptick in workload amid uncertainty.
With its slow and almost imperceptible hammering at us, age crafts us into its own puppet.
And we are impervious.
Until one day we move forward and feel the tug of the string.
We are told to eat right, exercise regularly, refrain from this or that and take our daily vitamins. This will keep age at bay.
Or at least minimize its damage.
I agree. But I also believe there is one more piece to the equation.
We must change.
I must change. There, I’ve said it.
Hear that flapping? It is the pigs.
And I do not mean change my hair color or change my eating habits.
I am changing my intention to fight age.
Rather, I intend to accommodate it.
Take it in, breathe it out, ask for help, give up the ghost and be satisfied with what level of happiness I manage to achieve.
True, at 39 true aging is on the horizon, but for me a few querulous impacts of a life well lived have made themselves known to me and made me acutely aware of what we all face.
Life is a very long time, if we are so blessed. Why spend the time trying to beat the clock to the finish?
I’m in it for the long haul.
Wrinkles, love handles, arthritis and all.
And completely decked out for the occasion.