Forty-Five

How is it that today is the 19th of January already?

I turned 45 today and it doesn’t bother me at all.  I am grateful for all the years that I have lived. I know that many people have a crisis at about this age and that is understandable.  It is hard to think that most of your life is behind you and to look at yourself and wonder if this is all there is.

But I am comfortable with who I am.  I wear sequined Minnie Ears and scream like a loony while riding The Matterhorn at Disneyland.  I make up moves to “Safety Dance” with my kids in the kitchen.  I am learning that I cannot change how people act, but I can change how I react to them.  I am trying to give grace everywhere I can, but to accept that sometimes you need to walk away.  Or run.

I will never win housekeeping awards, but my home is filled with love and laughter.  I know which one I like better.

I cry unashamedly during “Tangled”.  I color my hair. I think Captain Hook in “Once Upon A Time” is dreamy.  But there is nothing better in this whole world than being held by the man who knows why I cry and who would love me no matter what my hair looks like. (He also tolerates my fanmom crush.)

I worry more about my weight than my age, but at the end of the day, neither number matters.

I may die tomorrow or I may have another 45 years left.  Hopefully something in between.  But whatever happens, I hope that people will say that I lived well, laughed often and loved much.

Yes, this is me at 45.

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