Everything dies, baby that’s a fact.
Bruce Springsteen/Atlantic City
This might sound a little weird. Everything I say sounds a little weird. I know, I know–a lot weird.
But really.
Today is my 50th birthday, and not to be all macabre or anything, but I certainly never expected to live this long.
All through my life, I’ve thought I would die at around 40. I don’t remember ever having a fortune teller predict it, or a dream foretelling it, but I never thought I’d live very long. My Mom says when I turned 30 I said something about not expecting to make another decade. Maybe I just thought it would sound dramatic, but here I am at 50 and I really don’t mind all that much that I was wrong about being dead. Being alive is kind of OK.
My friends and family are wonderful, I have a great husband, a job I like…things are better than I ever thought they’d be.
Now, I’m not going to be one of those irritating people saying “oooooh, I’m better than ever” because at least physically I’m not. Time leaves its marks on everyone. It’s been kind to me compared to some other people, but I am not 25 any more.
Don’t get me wrong. I am still not hard to look at, and I feel pretty good physically. Am I as cute as I was a quarter of a century ago? Did you ever see me when I was 25? No way. When I look at my life, though, I’m so much happier now, and so much smarter about life that I don’t mind the physical deterioration too much.
Then:
Now:
I’m not so bad for someone who is so very elderly. I could do without the old-lady neck. Luckily for me, I inherited my beautiful Mother’s excellent genes.
Thanks, Ma.
PS: there was a football game yesterday, which our Duckies won. I’ll do the usual post-game tailgating review/pictures tomorrow!
PPS: I love you all.