August 20, 2013

37. Not 36. Not 38.

37.

It's such an ugly number. With this attitude, it could end up being and ugly year. Not sure why I've got a bee in my bonnet about turning 37. 36 seemed so casual and full of life. 37 is like stubbing your toe on a chair in the dark..the chair you said to yourself hours ago you should move or you would end up stubbing your toe. In a nut shell, there is a tendency for a lot of bad language and possibly tears. I've been dreading this for some time. I can remember on my 36th birthday thinking...37 is gonna suck. Look. It sucks. Ain't it just a mystery how that happens?
I think for me the reason 37 is so painful is that it is the apex of the downhill slide. Don't ask me why 37 and not 35..I'm not Stephen Hawking, I don't know these things. He wouldn't know either because I just made it up. Apex. Yep.. downhill sliding...smack dab into a big ol pile of middle age. In a few more years, I will definitely be unable to have children. In a few more years, I will be seen as a "Cougar" (although some young folks think I am now, but I say NAY! 40 is the entry age for Cougar Town- again..my life, my rules.)
I don't look 40. See...I just skipped 37, 38, and 39. After 36------ 40. I may pass for a young 30's. I'm grateful really. It could be much worse...like no such thing as permanent hair color or sunscreen.
I'm trying to embrace it. I'm trying to not cry out for my youth to come back and sit with me for awhile. Hold my hand Young Brooke. Remind me that I really am an amazing specimen of a woman. That my memories of Paris, Venice, Berlin, Sydney, LA, New York and so on are the envy of young women everywhere. I have lived such an incredible life. I have been a witness to such a beautiful world.
I turn and realize it is not the reassurance of Young Brooke that I need. I need the wisdom of elderly Brooke. The lady with the twinkling eyes that laughs at my dramatic expense. Elderly Brooke whispers to me... if only you knew. She holds my thoughts softly. Letting them roll slowly over the worried mind of the present. Fears play tricks and try to build walls around my heart, but Elderly Brooke brushes them away..like a cobweb that hangs too low. Love. Happiness. Fulfillment. Sometimes feeling so out of reach, impossible really to even get a clear picture of them. She whispers that I am all of those things and more.
I smirk and roll my eyes. She laughs and shakes her head. "Trust Me. I know."
Well played Elderly Brooke.
Well played.