I woke up yesterday morning, on my birthday, thinking, hmmm:
I am 36.
I don't particularly FEEL 36, but then I've never particularly felt any age. Like when I was a kid and turned 7, or 8, or 9, and people asked how it felt to be a 7 (or 8- or 9-)year-old and I honestly didn't feel any different so I didn't know how to answer. "It feels fine," I'd usually say, and adults would laugh. I had learned by about age 5 that saying something like "it feels fine" with a raised eyebrow led most adults to laugh and think I was smart and ironic instead of just baffled.
36, I mused, my eyes still closed, yesterday morning. Well, that's not so old. I'm cool with being 36. I'm 36, I repeated in my mind, trying it on for size. Thirty-six. Wait a second. 36? How can I be 36? My kids are about to turn 13 and 18. I had them when I was 28 and 33. I'm no math scholar but I can not be 36.
My eyes opened.
I am 46. Wow. Forty-frigging-six???
Well, okay. 46. And how does that feel?
It feels fine.
Visit Rachel's website for book news, contests, and more!
- ► 2014 (30)
- ► 2013 (20)
- ▼ 2012 (62)
- ► 2011 (57)
- ► 2010 (66)