Forty Candles On A Cake

Forty candles on a cake. Not a big deal, I know. My aunt keeps reminding me that at least I'm still around for another birthday. Family and friends older than me say forty is young. My kids think forty is old. I just don't know what to think.

I always thought by forty I would have it all figured out. Now I feel kinda like my son will feel in about ten years. You know... that feeling you get somewhere in your mid-to-late twenties when you realize that you didn't quite have it all figured out at seventeen? That's where he's at. Seventeen and knows it all. That's not a bad place to be. We just all know that sooner or later reality sets in.

I didn't quite expect reality to set in so quickly with me. I'm feeling the need to re-invent myself, I'm just not sure what that self should be. No longer a teacher, no longer a faithful church member, no longer a granddaughter. I can honestly say that I feel lost in my own life. If my hair wasn't red, I do believe I might try it blonde just to have something different.

And I have nothing to complain about. Absolutely nothing. I could go on, but I would sound like a broken record. Great family, faithful cat, rocking chair front porch. I'm starting to think I may be my own worse enemy. How does a person get over the nothing part and move on to the something? I know it's out there. I just can't seem to find it.

So I write this blog and love my family and drink my non-fat lattes while I try to unravel the mess that brought my once content life to a screeching halt. My daughter sits down beside me for the sole purpose of patting me on the head. You're getting those time-to-go blues, she said. She knows me very well. My birthday just happens to coincide with the time that we are packing up to head back home. That could be part of my problem.

At least for now.