Those who know me have heard these words from my mouth: “It’s my Birthday Month.” I used to celebrate my Birthday for the entire month of January. As I’ve gotten older, it has gone to Birthday week and most recently, Birthday weekend.
George R.R. Martin got it right: Winter is coming. As I enter the last year of my thirties, I have been pondering aging. I’m not freaking out about it like I did when I turned twenty-nine. It was the last year I could say I was twenty-something. Now, a decade later, I see no reason to panic.
Truvy Jones said it best when she said, “Honey, time marches on and eventually you realize it’s marchin’ across your face.” (Steel Magnolias-1989)
Call it vanity but I’ve started to notice the gray hair, the crow’s feet, and don’t get me started on the neck. If I would’ve taken better care of it ten years ago, I might not be complaining about it today.
But enough about my fading looks. I’m going to battle it as best I can and keep tossing pennies into the fountain of youth.
The best way to look at growing older is not to focus on how it bites but to reflect on the benefits. Wisdom, life experiences, relationships, successes, failures—these things add up to make us unique but to also give us common ground with others.
As a writer, these things give me food for thought and fodder for my craft. Living life encompasses the good, the bad, and the ugly. Our reactions to blessings and adversity tell others who we are but those same blessings and adversities change us and shape us into who we will become.
Of course, I would rather not have had my heart broken or lost someone I loved but without that pain, I couldn’t relate to others on the subject—whether through fiction or reality.
The song, The Dance by Garth Brooks, sums up my thoughts, if you recognize it, you’ll know what I mean. If you don’t, click the link and listen. It is dedicated to the memory of my friend Jill Cook. We used to celebrate our January Birthdays together.