Having A Birthday

Six decades. Not gonna lie, freaking out a bit. In a blink of an eye, I’m old. Oh, I know it’s the new 50 and 50 is the new 40 – is that still a thing? I know I’m old because I remember being 20, 30, and even 40, thinking 60 is old. When I was growing up, once you hit 60 you could die any time. My elders regularly died in their 60’s, though there were many, especially on my mother’s side, that lived into their 90’s. Truth is, when you get old, you still feel like yourself. I’m not old; I’m different. To most of society, I am old. I think back when I was younger and realizing those “old” people still felt like themselves. Perspective.

So, here I am on the eve of 60. Seems like yesterday I was chasing around two little boys and now those “boys” help take care of me. Memories of multistate adventures with Tracy, Larry, Todd, and Sissy provide great videos in my mind. Now, because I’m mostly bedbound due to severe pain and illness, it’s really difficult for me to see my friend group of 40+ years who all live nearly an hour away. By the time I get ready and we make the drive, I’m done. Visiting and laughing, then, are a stretch too far; I leave before long, anticipating the trip home.

My one wish for my 60th birthday, is to see my little tribe. They’re coming for brunch Sunday, which is the actual anniversary of my birth.t No need for me to travel and it will be my best time of day. If it’s a terribly shitty day, I can always lie down. We haven’t invited them all over since my youngest graduated in 2017. With two years of grad parties, COVID, remodeling, moving my mother-in-law from California, and my declining health, hosting friends hasn’t happened. Can’t wait to see them! There will be good food and an abundance of laughter. That will be a wonderful gift.

For these last few suicidal years, I “knew” I wouldn’t reach 60. Here I am. I typically don’t care about birthday recognition, except to get a good meal and a yummy dessert. I also shop too much in October because it’s my “birthday month.” Not to mention, it’s the perfect excuse to see great friends. The end of my sixth decade comes with a mixture of emotions best described as pleasantly surprised with a sense of foreboding. Here I am.