October 25, 1959.  That’s the day I arrived, all five pounds of me.  Mother only gained five pounds with her pregnancy, she says on Doctor’s orders but I think perhaps also because she liked her figure and feared getting fat.  (I gained 45 pounds with my first and 50 with my second.  Clearly I didn’t fear looking like I’d swallowed the largest pumpkin grown in any patch.)

Tiny Toes

October 25, 2014 is only a few days away and if I’m lucky enough to live through them then I’ll celebrate 55 years of being on this earth.  I have a feeling this is the year I’m going to start looking old.  I’ve been blessed genetically with few wrinkles and cursed with a high, girlish voice and in some ways I’m still surprisingly naive so for that or other reasons most people guess I’m years younger than I am.  But in the past few weeks I’ve seen the grey start creeping into my hair and for no reason in the world two weeks ago my lower back started aching so that one afternoon I could barely even make it up the stairs and for some reason my eyes have been feeling tired and irritated lately.  So basically I’m apparently falling apart.  And I pretty much have to consider myself middle-aged now, unless I’m planning to live a lot longer than 110 years.

But I still have a long way I want to go along the path of my life, into the beautiful unknown, taking the wisdom gathered over all these years, the relationships built, the sorrows and the joys and setting out on this next phase of my life taking more risks, laughing louder, singing, dancing, crying, loving, more, more & more.  All in glorious abundance.

So yes, I’m feeling kind of old, but I’m ready for the way ahead whether I get there running or walking or crawling or being carried I look forward to all that lies ahead.