I Didn’t Expect This

I never thought much about what it would feel like to grow old. In fact, I refuse to think of myself that way. My mind settled somewhere around forty-five and apparently forgot to notify the rest of my body.

My birthday week always makes me philosophical. I don’t mind the years. Given the way I’ve lived my life, it is something of a miracle that I am here to still count them. I have become grateful for things I never gave much thought to before. Air conditioners. Cool nights pajamas designed for women who may have to change clothes at two in the morning because their bodies are still having private summers.

What surprised me most wasn’t the wrinkles or the spider veins.

I really thought my soul would somehow be different by now.

I thought I would know the meaning of life. I thought I would feel wiser, more certain, and somehow have a cleaner house.

Quite frankly, I have chaos. I have phobias. There are some things I won’t do anymore. I won’t look into a magnifying mirror. No one needs to see their skin that close. Trust your bifocals and the regular side of the mirror.

I won’t step on a scale. I avoid driving at night. I remember when old people would say that, and I’d roll my eyes. And I no longer spend time with toxic people. Now, that may mean I’m alone a lot, but that’s okay too. (I’m sure people say the same about me!)

I have also come to an interesting conclusion about money. There is no prize for leaving behind unfulfilled dreams. I am the only person who owns my bucket list. I’m taking the trip. I am going to spend money on myself. I earned it.

This week reminded me that I am stronger than I think. I spent four days doing manual labor, four or five hours at a stretch, in the heat, prepping for a warehouse sale at Millstone. I didn’t have to go to the ER, and I was able to walk the next day. Frankly, I was as surprised as anyone.

(Note to self, if you used the gym membership more just think what you could get your body to do.)

I headed to Reelfoot Lake with my camera for the weekend. I met up with my photo buddies for the Memphis Camera Club shoot.

The trip began with self-induced chaos. I carefully set two alarms so that I wouldn’t miss the boat launch at 5:45 am. I must have set it for pm.

When I opened my eyes and looked at the clock, it was 5:46 am.

I had fourteen minutes.

I have no clear memory of what happened next.

I know I grabbed my camera. I assume I brushed my teeth. I think I buttoned my shirt, but I’m not sure. I did have my water bottle and the toilet paper for the potential potty break.

Somehow, I made it.

We were sailing right along when the boat motor quit. I was not surprised or bothered. I was surrounded by nature. I was one with nature. We floated to an osprey nest.

The two ospreys talked back and forth from their nest while we waited. For the first time, I heard them talk, their communication. I put my camera down, closed my eyes, and just listened. I was at peace with the planet.

Then a fish almost jumped into the boat and sprayed me with cold lake water.

That, in a nutshell, is my life.

I wish I had some wise words to share about the meaning of life. I thought I would know it by now.

I don’t.

But I know what an osprey sounds like when it’s talking to its mate. I know I can still work four hours in the heat and walk the next day. I know that fourteen minutes is enough time to get yourself out the door if you’re passionate about something. I didn’t forget the toilet paper.

Sixty-eight trips around the sun, the same week as the summer solstice, the day the Earth tilts closest to the sun.

Which means I will sunburn faster and sweat more.