15 | January | 2013 | nomadicmainstream

Don’t know this one’s name, but I like it–and the dew covered spider web

If New Year’s isn’t enough of a reminder that another year has passed, my birthday comes as a second reminder that time is flying.

I’d like to think that means I’m having fun. And, I suppose I am. But as I find myself crossing over the mid-point between 40 and 50, my breath catches in my throat as I choke back the shock. How exactly did that happen?

A youthful wood ear

Immediately, I start to list the endless list of things I haven’t done that I was sure I would have done long before now. But I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I tell myself, “I am enough.” I think that’s my new mantra.

Shelf-forming fungus against a bed of moss

So, if I am enough and my life is enough, what has my life been about? In a word, I’d have to say if you take my life and add it all up, it comes to a work in progress. And that’s enough.

Fungus or sculpture?

In the interest of celebrating, here are random moments/experiences from my life I am grateful for:

Climbing trees and clinging to the branches while the tree swayed in the wind.
Swinging so high the swing would go above the top bar and then jerk on its way back down.
The warm feeling of sharing a smile.
Watching my nephews grow into amazing young men.
Friends. Especially friends who know me and remind me my flawed and imperfect self is enough.
Every dog I have ever known and especially those I have shared a lifetime in dog years with.
The moments when I managed, in spite of the improbability, to do the exact right thing to connect with someone in way that left us both feeling like we mattered.
Fireflies and the childhood delight of watching them flash their lights against my skin just before floating off, back into the night.
Having parents who supported me when I took chances and helped nurse me back to health when the odds didn’t go my way.
Having followed my teenage dream of working with horses far enough to have no regrets over giving it up.
The day I knew, absolutely knew without a doubt, my husband loved me.
The feeling of being a millionaire when I bought my first piece of real furniture even though it was a damaged floor sample.
Soaring downhill on my bike with no hands, fingers spread wide to catch the wind whistling between them.
The foresight and caring of a friend who got me to the hospital in time to hold my mother’s hand while she died.
Standing on top of Half Dome feeling like I had just conquered the world.
Bad boyfriends without whom I couldn’t have appreciated good ones.
Having a father who could talk me through disassembling a garbage disposal to remove a clog and reassembling it over the phone.
The day I realized women should be allies, not enemies.
Every time my husband plays one of his songs for me.