40

Copied from facebook, written on my 40th birthday. Please, don't take me too seriously...

I deleted my birthday from my facebook account so I could see who my *real* friends are. Because Lord knows, at this age I've got no time to waste with the fake ones. The way I see it, any day now the jig will be up and I'll be called yonder and asked what the bejezus I've done with my L O N G time here on earth. I'll have to admit I wasted a fair bit of it bemoaning all that jiggles when I wiggle, fretting over what so and so thought/said/did that is of positively zero relevance to me on This Very Day, exercising futility in laboring to whip these charges of mine into people that will never publicly embarrass me, nor turn their backs on me in my Age of Dementia which now looms near, and scrubbing this then polishing that, tidying here and there and starting it all over again. What is that they say about cleaning the house while living with children? Something about snow and shoveling. I forget because tis nigh the senility once you've crested the hill.

If I had it to do over again I would have given more endorphin releasing hugs. The long kind where they know you truly mean it. I would love them all better, just exactly as they are in this very moment without hint of trying to impose change. We are all on a transformative sojourn, after all. Not a single one of them will stay as they are right now forever. My face and my hands and my huggy arms would ooze acceptance with less expectation. The more I'm okay with who I am, the more room I can allow for them to stumble and falter and error. Besides, I'm doing it right along side them. Fumbling up, doing what I shouldn't, not doing what I should. Paul and I might disagree on a few things, but we are alike in that way. I would slow down when I eat and smell the chocolate before I take a bite. I would close my eyes and breathe it in and savor the sweet creamy goodness of it the exact second I have it to enjoy. I would cut myself more slack, dance to more music and wear out all the kind words I could imagine. I know I would because as life grows a little bit shorter with each passing day, all the blurry, frivolous, and unimportant that once seemed urgent slowly fades into the periphery. It's a gift, really. The wrinkles are formed with precious perspective. It's all such a lovely, twisted, thorny and succulent adventure.

If you wished me a happy birthday, I'm putting you in my will, real friend. You can divide up my paper bead necklaces and my drawer full of stretchy yoga pants and my pages and pages of scribbled notes that are all over everywhere. Things I meant to write about but never did because I was too busy beating my kids in Monopoly. Sorry, it's all I've got to offer. My most prized possessions aren't the kind you can quantify. I'm lucky that way.