This is my last Friday (30 minutes of Friday) as a 41 year-old.
By the time I publish this blog, likely Friday will have slipped away into Saturday - and I will have slipped into bed.
As a side note, my treadmill debacle yesterday has left me incredibly uncomfortable, but thoughtful - thus, I'm writing.
Late July to early August typically finds me retreating internally - my father passed away late July, my mother early August and they perfectly framed my birthday - (thanks parentals). Although it's been 25 years since my mother passed and 22 years for my father, it wasn't until quite recently that I realized how closely I held those mourning cards close to my chest. (A southern lady keeps her composure, a sister keeps her cool, a mother keeps her calm, a woman cares for many.... )
I digress.
42. (I've been waiting for you.) I've dreaded this age because I always felt guilty that I made it - and that my life would be happy and healthy during it. 42 is when my mother passed away. Darn her, she has missed some amazing kids (all 4 of them are extraordinary) and some phenomenal grand-kids (8 of them). My mother, a completely good/lost/loving soul - she would have gotten a kick outta' the likes of this group that found their own paths from the one she started. My dad? Geesh. He waited until he was 49 to go to his next adventure .... and he - he would think I was bemoaning a topic best left alone when there was so much life yet to be lived. He would be right.
(This blog branches off in so many directions - mourning, acceptance, patience... )
Really - right now - there is an opportunity to write about opportunity.
Like:
*Taking paddle-boarding to a new level - it makes my heart soar to share it
*42. This year is going to be that resonating possibility - (and I love possibility)
*Lessons to lean on someone who is going to wield logic and love to protect my fragile/fierce heart
*Adventures - I am oh so ready for adventures!
Next week, on my birthday, I plan on rising early and driving to a lake I've never paddle-boarded to whisper to my 42 year old self, "pssst... you are ready for the next possible great step"....
Truth be told... I am.
Whether I'm 42, 49, 78, or 106 - I make the decision that living in a shadow of the past is not my fortune told ....
I'm given possibility every single day.
And glad for it.
Hey you - reader - may you take from your time here - on this writing - ... you are the best possibility. And it's a lovely, beautiful prospect... to be possible.
Love, light and a lot of mischievous mettle.
(It's 12:03 ... and Saturday in Mountain Standard Time).
- Simone
By the time I publish this blog, likely Friday will have slipped away into Saturday - and I will have slipped into bed.
As a side note, my treadmill debacle yesterday has left me incredibly uncomfortable, but thoughtful - thus, I'm writing.
Late July to early August typically finds me retreating internally - my father passed away late July, my mother early August and they perfectly framed my birthday - (thanks parentals). Although it's been 25 years since my mother passed and 22 years for my father, it wasn't until quite recently that I realized how closely I held those mourning cards close to my chest. (A southern lady keeps her composure, a sister keeps her cool, a mother keeps her calm, a woman cares for many.... )
I digress.
42. (I've been waiting for you.) I've dreaded this age because I always felt guilty that I made it - and that my life would be happy and healthy during it. 42 is when my mother passed away. Darn her, she has missed some amazing kids (all 4 of them are extraordinary) and some phenomenal grand-kids (8 of them). My mother, a completely good/lost/loving soul - she would have gotten a kick outta' the likes of this group that found their own paths from the one she started. My dad? Geesh. He waited until he was 49 to go to his next adventure .... and he - he would think I was bemoaning a topic best left alone when there was so much life yet to be lived. He would be right.
(This blog branches off in so many directions - mourning, acceptance, patience... )
Really - right now - there is an opportunity to write about opportunity.
Like:
*Taking paddle-boarding to a new level - it makes my heart soar to share it
*42. This year is going to be that resonating possibility - (and I love possibility)
*Lessons to lean on someone who is going to wield logic and love to protect my fragile/fierce heart
*Adventures - I am oh so ready for adventures!
Next week, on my birthday, I plan on rising early and driving to a lake I've never paddle-boarded to whisper to my 42 year old self, "pssst... you are ready for the next possible great step"....
Truth be told... I am.
Whether I'm 42, 49, 78, or 106 - I make the decision that living in a shadow of the past is not my fortune told ....
I'm given possibility every single day.
And glad for it.
Hey you - reader - may you take from your time here - on this writing - ... you are the best possibility. And it's a lovely, beautiful prospect... to be possible.
Love, light and a lot of mischievous mettle.
(It's 12:03 ... and Saturday in Mountain Standard Time).
- Simone
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