|Me wearing sixty - freshly washed hair and a scrubbed, au natural face.|
Months ago the rumblings started about what I wanted to do to celebrate my sixtieth birthday. Sixty is a milestone birthday after all, and deserves to be celebrated. The advice I would give to others. And funny enough, I wasn't really feeling it. Not like I did when I was turning fifty. Then I wanted adventure; to push myself outside of my comfort zone; to travel to distant lands; and then to celebrate the day by cooking a feast for all of my beloved friends and family. I had clear desires and intentions around that special birthday and I realized them all.
I had landed on a family dinner with just the kids, sibs and our parents. And then the pandemic was declared and our world as we knew it was no more. We were sent home to roost in our respective nests to isolate and I was left to ponder and reflect.
I have come to realize that as the years pass, it takes less to satisfy me, to make me happy. I am contented. I have traveled and explored wild and wonderful places and loved and lived deeply. I have raised a brood of kidlets and enjoyed the riches and responsibilities of a large loving family. I have been blessed with rewarding work and curiosity that of a life long learner.
And now at sixty my heart yearns for connection, time spent, more moments shared with those I care about. And so for all of what I have experienced and the textures and colours that make up my life, I am truly grateful. And for all that we will learn from the pandemic and the famjams that will follow this quarantine, I am brimming with anticipation.
I am staring down sixty and the view is spectacular.