F i f t y
I remember sitting on a picnic table with my friend Judy, at maybe 10 years old. We had just made gorgeous necklaces from clover, braided our hair and shared an orange Popsicle. When we sat down to rest on the picnic table, her uncle, who was lounging under a shade tree, gave us both a big glob of pink bubblegum. And by the way, this guy happened to be the king of blowing bubbles. We sat there in the sun, trying to follow his amazing lead.
Unfortunately, most of our big pink attempts splatted all over our faces.
“How did he learn to blow bubbles like that?” I whispered to Judy.
“He’s had a lot of practice,” she said with a shrug. “He’s like 50 years old or something.”
That moment stuck in my head and I based lots of life on that magical five decades.
“When I’m 50, I’ll master bubble blowing,” I thought. “I will be organized and neat. I will like coffee. I will discuss world issues. I will order onion on my hamburger. I will reject cake and have salad instead. When I am 50, I will finally be a graceful woman with class. And privately, I will blow huge bubbles with bubble gum.”
This week, I celebrated 50 years on the plant.
I am more of a slop now than I was then. I still hate coffee, world issues and onions. I never turn away cake in favor of lettuce. I still have no grace or class. I curse too much. I never brush my hair. I hate lipstick. And I still can’t blow bubbles.
Ok, well, I failed to reach those milestones.
But 50 years later, I have learned so much about all the different kinds of love. I have lived through lots of disappointment and become a better, stronger woman because of it. I have learned who is true, who is trouble, who is worth the sacrifice.
On my own, I have raised a child to be a man- a good, honest, hard-working man who will hopefully live an honorable life for all of his life.
I have learned that pain makes people sparkle, and the more you sparkle, the more you draw people to you. Because they can feel your heart and trust it.
I have also learned that it’s ok if I hate coffee, hairbrushes, panty hose and schedules. I have definitely learned that life isn’t about striving to be what other people want you to be.
So I’m going to be my messy, wild, unorganized self at 50 and for however many years I’m here after this one.
