The years are advancing, the time when one is not supposed to say their age out loud is fast approaching, or so I’m told. Oh, I don’t know much about that, but I like the comfort that comes with knowing me a bit longer (sort of like an old friend to myself). In summary, the surface looks like this:
Health: I don’t have a health problem (yet), I love my habits and yes, I know some of them could have lasting consequences. I love them anyway. Sports should balance everything out, and an apple a day. No, I don’t need two litres of water per day. Neither do the people who live in the desert.
Love: Margaret Mitchell said, “I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken — and I’d rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.” I seem to be following this trend.
Looks: My more stylish friends are always pointing out what I need to change. It’s dawning on me that some things will remain the same. No, I won’t grow my hair until I really feel like it, I don’t wear little, girly dresses because I don’t know how, and I don’t like heels because I’m already as tall as I’d like to be. All the same, I am glad to have friends who care.
Profession: I finally figured out what I want to do, digging my heels in and hanging in there. To be honest, I don’t think I will ever grow rich doing what I do. But those are thoughts for my next birthday.
Social life: Not a party animal. Not a social butterfly. Not a super star. Yet solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong.
Every year on my birthday, I make grand pronouncements about the future (illusions induced by something other than natural high spirits and augmented by other people’s expectations of me). This year, I think I will break this habit. No resolutions, no grandiose schemes, just a few personal plans to take the future in manageable bits. Mark you, it does not mean that I will stop dreaming.
