Today, I am 50 years old. I am not sure which of us is more stunned by this. Probably you, because you remember that actual day.
I have to admit that the past few days (okay, week) leading up to today have been more emotional than I expected them to be. Not the turbulence that was 30, but not the empowerment of 40,either.
It is not the gray hair and wrinkles. Those are just natural highlights and laugh lines. Except for that crease just to the midline of my right eyebrow. THAT is a knitting concentration line. No, what is bothersome is the reminder. My chronological 50 does not match my inner 19. And there is no denying that there are more days behind me than there are ahead of me. (Because honestly, I don't think I'd want to live to be 100.) There is so much I want to do. I urgently feel that I am running out of time.
And yet, I am thankful. I've been blessed with loving parents, a family, and dear friends. I have the privilege of celebrating 50 years when there are many deserving women/wives/mothers/sisters/daughters/friends who never got the chance.
So if I seem a little weepy today, it is not that I mourn the years behind me, but that I appreciate them.