Today, I turn 52. This is crazy for a million reasons, but especially because it means I am clearly a grown up.
I do not feel like a grown up.
Over the years, I’ve realized that no one really ever feels like a grown up. Clearly I must be: I’ve raised a child, I have a full time job that quite likely is a career, I have a home that I care for and utility bills that I regularly pay. I cut the grass and do other grown-up things.
All the evidence is in: I am a grown up.
A grown up who loves being JT’s mama and T’s partner; whose days are made better by flowers, good books, mason jars, and twinkling lights; who likes to cook and feed the people she loves; who pours over garden and book catalogs and daydreams about both. And let’s not even mention the time I spend planning out front porch decorations for each month. I like to laugh and play card games. I love coloring books and the occasional cat video. I like a fresh pedicure and a soft blanket; candlelight and sunrises. My list of joys great and small could go on and on. I realize what a blessing this is.
But mostly I am filled with enormous gratitude for the people I love and who see fit to love me back, warts and all. Time is flying by at a speed I never could have imagined when I was 10 or 20. I am grateful for all of it and so very glad of this life I love.
That’s happy!
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