I Know this Much is True

clock-face-hand-painted-on-antique-drum-table-Shizzle-Design-Grand-Rapids-Michigan-for-sale-aging-dust-cece-caldwells-smoky-mountain-vintage-whiteI cannot tell a lie. I did not wake up this morning and think, “Today I’m 44! Bring it on!”

44 is one step closer to 50, and 50 is half-way to 100, a milestone most of us will not meet. 44 is only one year from 45, which is the age at which I will undeniably be knee-deep in my 40s, firmly entrenched in middle age; no turning back, a different box on demographic surveys, a mere decade away from starting to receive brochures about retirement communities and hip replacements.

There are a lot of things that no one told me about being in my 40s. Things I assumed everyone was exaggerating about or that I never thought would happen to me. I never thought I would still be wearing a retainer, for one.

I assumed that chin hairs would always be kind of a jokey thing, that I would go gray gracefully in a nice controlled streak that I could then dye pink. I assumed that middle-aged spread was for other people, that bosoms were for grandmas. I assumed that losing weight would continue to be as easy as cutting out carbs for a week or so. I assumed that getting news of the death of peers or their fight against cancer would still be miles and decades away.

Though I may not have sprung out of bed with enthusiasm at the idea of celebrating the passage of another year, I know this much is true: Waking up today at 44 is, as the cliché goes, better than the alternative. Waking up today at 44 means I have been given the best gift I could be given: one more day. Another day to feel sunshine on my skin, to feel my boys’ arms around my neck. Another day means I have the opportunity to feel the warmth of my husband’s body next to mine, to roll into the protection of his arms. Waking up today at 44 means I have been given the gift of another day to ponder a cloudless sky, to enjoy the conversation of friends, to wonder at the world or create a perfect sentence.

The confidence I carry with me, the resolution that I feel, the mettle of my voice and words: those thing are hard-won. The lividity of the scars may have faded, but the battles were real. The wisdom that comes with experience, the calm that comes with acceptance, the peace of being comfortable in the who, what, where and when. All those things are the gifts of age. I know this much is true.

4189583377_608146635c

I know which direction the wind of my life blows and I can chart its course. I cannot control it, but I can bend with it instead of being battered by it. I can recognize my strengths, can better avoid my weaknesses. I can believe passionately without the self-consumption which comes with being blind to alternative. All of these things are the gifts of experience. I know this much is true.

I am a better mother to my children, a better wife to my husband, a better daughter, friend, partner, collaborator. I am a better listener, a better problem solver, a better writer. That is the gift of having been around the block a few times. I know this much is true.

It is getting easier to accentuate the positive, to distance myself from the negative, to understand both sides of a story. Right now is a tipping point. I can choose to spend my time looking back, or I can choose to spend it looking forward. Understanding that dwelling in the past can stop you from moving forward into the future, understanding that time is not unlimited, that it will one day stop for you all together, these things are the gifts of getting older. I know this much is true.

In the end, having to slow down a little bit, having to replace a few body parts here and there, well…that seems a small price to pay for the gift of another day, another year, another birthday. The older I get, the more it makes sense.

I know that much is true.

 

 

Advertisements

26 thoughts on “I Know this Much is True

Add yours

    1. I don’t know, I really don’t. But it’s been on my mind A LOT recently. Occasionally I go into panic mode. Then I try to remind myself to get all Carpe Diem zen, but right? Wasn’t I 29 last year???

      Like

    1. Aw, thank you. Don’t cry! These days I alternate my time between crying and ranting at (fill in the blank). Damn hormones. But this piece was somewhat inspired by a HuffPost piece I read the other day about a young mother who succumbed to cancer recently and the post she wrote right before she died. Now, if you really want to cry, look that up.

      Like

    1. Thank you! It’s true. And though it sounds very pretty and somewhat philosophical on paper, it’s something I need to slap into myself on a regular basis. At least I hope it sounds pretty and somewhat philosophical 😉

      Like

  1. Dina, I wish you the happiest of birthdays. Your upbeat attitude of looking forward (with your beautiful sense of humor) will carry you far and bring smiles to those around you. Revel in your 40s … and you’re going to love your 50s – the grace and confidence just gets better. 🙂 Wishing you all the best, Terri

    Like

Talk to me, Goose.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

D.E. Haggerty

Writer, Blogger, Book Addict

PRS Consulting

What you need to know about roofing

YOURS IN SISTERHOOD

a performative documentary project based on letters to the editor of Ms., 1972-1980

The Happy Traveler

Seeking to read the pages of Earth's Book.

only the jodi

scribbler. shutterbug. succulent cactus.

Transhomemaker

Being proud to be a vintage housewife

%d bloggers like this: