“First you start out like a grape, small and sour, like a whiny three year old, then you get bigger and bigger, and juicier and juicier. When you are juicy enough, you start growing into the raisin stage. The raisin stage isn’t so bad. You are wrinkly but sweet and then you are made into an oatmeal cookie and it’s all over.” – My daughter Lila’s Raison Theory of Life
Fifty-one looks like a scary number. I’ve been barreling toward my birthday with all the genuine optimism I can muster. I know I’m surrounded with so many blessings. I truly feel it.
However, with less than a month to ground zero I’m starting to lose my enthusiasm. Fifty-one. The word makes me grimace. It sounds old.
I’m having one of those days where I willingly pile a lifetime of regrets, wasted days, faded loves, squandered opportunities, and loss on my chest like heavy stones. I can’t breathe.
So much stupidity. Not enough courage. Days I can’t get back. People I can’t touch.
I will rally. But for this moment I take a certain comfort in laying under the stones. I want to hold on to them, feel their heaviness, and remember every mistake, misstep and careless gesture.
The weight is a summons to live purposefully. To have more courage. To find the acceptance to leave the stones on the ground and not burden what’s left.
To live the sweetness.
Wonderful, from your child’s spelling to the final words of wisdom. The only thing I can add is you are only as old as you feel, and I feel 93 this am…. So fifty one sounds mighty perky… No regrets, no weight of guilt or shouldacouldawoulda – which is my heaviest burden at times. Just this. And this. And now. And again. One step, two step, dance to the music of the universe. Love you! k
That Lila is very insightful, just like her Momma!