Last Sunday I turned 40. I took it a lot better than I thought I would and am actually quite pleased to be half-way to 80. Indeed! When I was a tadpole, I thought 40 was ancient. I thought that when I was 40 I'd be a great-grandmother with lovely blue-rinsed pin curls, wearing homemade shawls and support hose.
I thought I would be eating 3 prunes a day.
As it turns out, I am not a grandmother at all and my hair is pink. I DO wear home-made shawls but they are funky and "cool" and so is eating 3 prunes a day. I never heard anyone complain that they were too "regular". (SHE just peeked over my shoulder and informed me that talking AND writing about being "regular" is definitely a sign of aging.)
I am forty. I took the long way to get here. The unpaved road that was bumpy and often times almost impassable but I finally arrived. And that is just how it feels. I followed my Nana Bea's advice...I never go barefoot and always wear socks and have never frozen my uterus on cold floors. She also taught me to always ice a cake with three times more frosting than it calls for. She taught me how to laugh at myself, how to be myself and that being by myself isn't being alone. She always painted her nails red. Even when she was very old and had shaky hands and got nail-polishy smudges around the edges, she still painted her nails. She was awesome and I am glad I had her help along the way. I know who I am. Today. I am not sure who I'll be tomorrow but I hope it is still someone who doesn't mind milk coming out of her nose because she is laughing so hard and doesn't mind getting paint on her best shoes.
I turned the page from 39 to 40 on an evening spent with the dearest of Dears. There is nothing more important than friends and love and laughter. I am 40 and one of the luckiest gals I know.
Wee Rose is still trying to discover who she is but she has lots of time to find out. After all, she's just a kid.