It’s my birthday. I’m 38. It’s weird to see that written down. I don’t think it’s old. I don’t think it’s young either.
I had this weird idea that I would know what I wanted to be when I grow up by now. I don’t. Last night, one of the anchors at the local television station where I used to work posted a screen shot from when I was reporting on air.
(Thanks, Christina. That wasn’t jarring at all)
I don’t even know that girl anymore. She knew stuff. She was sure of SO MANY things. I think that’s good. If there was no certainty in youth, no one would ever leave home or try new things.
Age brings the realization that you know precious few things for certain. But here’s what I’m sure of:
- Days that begin with hot coffee and hugs are better than days that don’t.
- Saying “Three Favorite Things” with my family at the end of each day is the best exercise of gratitude and joy I have ever practiced.
- If I can lay my head down on a pillow each night with a full belly under a solid roof, I’m in no position to complain. I really should stop that.
- Metallic lip liner was as bad a mistake as I thought it might have been.
- I was right that I would never use some of that stuff I had to learn in school.
One day I’ll figure out more. Or I won’t. Until then, as I take my next turn around the sun, I’ll be spending my days in a very ordinary way… with my village. (entire village not shown)