Ok, so birthdays come and birthdays go and the 67th has disappeared into the background and I'm well on my way to preparing for the 68th.
Amazing, huh? If someone had told me twenty years ago that I would be so happily situated, so satisfied with my life today, I would have seriously scoffed. When one is 47 menopause looms, wrinkles are just starting to metamorphose the areas around the eyes, and life looks a tad scarey.
I think that's because most American 47 year old women are really really busy. They have children in the nest or just taking wing on their way out to college or the military or on some sort of job training adventure. Most have a full time job that competes with home life for energy and if they are still in a marital relationship, they have the responsibility to be a decent partner. All of that activity either has to leave one comotose by the end of the day or celebratory that all the requirements of that day have been met as one plans out the agenda for the next twenty-four hours.
Not much time left to consider life twenty years hence. So, let me assure you that this particular example of what the Ausralians refer to as the 'oldies' is full of relaxed early mornings, lots of good books to read, tracks to trek, movies to see, columns to write, manuscripts to complete, and oh yes, I receive my MA in Writing, Editing, and Publishing from the University of Queensland on 17 December. Hooray for retirement, a modicum of wisdom, and lots of time and space in which to enjoy it.