Today I have officially have been 41 for two weeks.
It was quite a relief to not be turning 40 again, what with all the build-up and hoopla. The hoopla was lovely, by the way. But this birthday came with fewer expectations; no one really asks what it feels like to be turning 41. For this I'm grateful.
My fortieth year began at a waterfall in Maui. H & O were visiting to help me bring in the forth decade. The three of us were lounging about on rocks amid the bamboo when O. clambered up the waterfall, jumped off the cliff and plunged into the waters. H. hemmed and hawed wanting to follow suit but feeling nervous. She gathered her courage and she, too, took the leap. I completely chickened out. As I chided myself later, O. gently offered these wise words, “Well, next time you really want to do something, you will.” So simple. On day one of turning 40, I set the goal to do just that.
So I've been thinking, how did I do with that 40th year of mine? Here’s a quick summary:
- I became the proud owner of two (count ‘em, two!) aprons, and I’ve even worn them. (Yes, for cooking.).
- I have baked and cooked with some amount of success, finally.
- I moved in with D. (And Petey the dog moved in with Kitty the cat.)
- I learned to meditate…for at least a few minutes.
- H & I kicked-off Heffalumps.
- I finally made it to Africa, one small, red-dirt, rural corner of Africa.
But now I’m 41, and I can’t help but notice that many of the Big Questions I had at 40 still nag at me and I’m tired of the “I don’t know” that bounces back. I still don’t know if I will start a family. Or if I'm really okay with not doing so. I still don’t know what would come next after teaching. I still don't know how to do the Crow yoga pose. And it's okay. I'm just saying...
I live next door to two little girls aged 5 and 3, or thereabouts. These little girls run and skip and meander about their yard in ribbons and ruffles, long skirts, bright-colored dresses with striped socks, and decked out in full princess ballerina sparkles and pouf. The other day, as I looked out my window, I caught them in a quiet moment. The youngest one was sitting in a little red chair - wearing a full white tulle concoction - holding onto a pink balloon. Her older sister was lying in the shaded grass beside her in her own fairytale dress. She was gazing up at her balloon as it danced on its string above her head. If Tinkerbell had flitted into the scene scattering fairydust, I would not have been surprised.
As I looked out on the girls, I remembered childhood; how my to-do list was much simpler, and how time felt so different, slower, more expansive. I don’t know what this year has in store for me, or rather, what I have in store for it. But I here’s what I’ve proudly accomplished so far:
1. Yesterday, for a few glorious minutes, I lay in the grass of my backyard looking up at the blue, blue sky.
Dearest Kibettoo:
ReplyDeleteNot that you need reassuring from a relative, okay total stranger BUT (and I am just saying)...
Things seem to come in cycles of seven. 41-42 is the end of a cycle. You will have regenerated all your cells for one thing. I have known you for eight or nine years, just a little. You had a profound effect on my son’s life, mine too although that is not as apparent, as I am certain you have had on countless others too. I am sure you don’t remember this exchange (early before coffee had kicked in –mad chaos of kids arriving to the classroom) I asked you how you were doing, and you looked at me and said: “Well, I am leaving and going to Hawaii. I looked at you and replied GREAT! I think I went on and on about it… You said that I was the only one who thought it was a good idea.
You have been kind enough to keep me in the loop of your writing, your life, H’s coming wedding, Dave (hooray for the two of you), Petey, learning how to surf, the little car that could, forays into cooking, crazy florists, and I remain in awe of you and your bravery. My son goes to college next year, and I will begin another seven year cycle. I hope I have the courage to go out and change and grow as you did…you are an inspiration. Thank you.
If you wonder what you might do after teaching, I hope you will continue to write and share with us the musings with heartfelt honesty you do. Your writing reminds me of EB White’s.
I’d go out and lay on a rooftop to watch the clouds go by, BUT IT IS 14 degrees here. See? You are ahead of us as usual
Happy belated birthday from a fan…
P.S. Crow pose is about trusting yourself and getting those f***ing knees as close or into the armpits as possible.
I just love reading you two. It always gives me a pause to think how wonderful you are and how fortunate I am to have you in my life. PS. I hope to make it to Africa before I turn 42...well, 43. :-)
ReplyDelete