The other day Facebook popped up a photo for me to share from three years ago. The photo was taken two months before my mom died.
Look at this baby! I thought. Oh, and my toddler has grown a lot in the meantime too.
I look at this younger, much more innocent version of myself and think, honey, hold on. You have a wild ride ahead of you.
A wild-ride indeed. I’ve grown up. While the hard-fought life lessons may have come from circumstances I would never have asked for, I am grateful for where I have arrived. Grief cracked open my heart. (And gave me gray hairs, but that is beside the point.)
I feel like I’m coming into my own and damn does it feel good. I’m almost forty and I couldn’t be happier. It is like when I approached thirty–I was ready to say good riddance to my twenties. Well, same now.
I feel like I am in my prime.
Oh, how my twenty-two year old self would have laughed at that!
Not surprisingly, standing in these nearly-over-the-hill shoes brings new perspective. I realized the other day that I am only five years younger than my mom was when she was diagnosed with the big C.
Womp, womp. Way to burst the happy bubble right?
Realizing this has given me even more gratitude AND made me appreciate my mom in new ways. I remember her at that age and she seemed so…WISE. Grounded. She knew who she was.
And damn, she had a fantastic wardrobe. I know that sounds funny but the woman set the bar HIGH. It is seriously time to up my game.
I would write more but my three-year-old is plucking leaves off a succulent plant. My husband is trying to convince her to ride her tricycle but now she has decided to roll the giant watermelon we bought yesterday. That would be my clue to wrap things up.
Life is good. But I also have a feeling when I’m staring down fifty, I will laugh and think, oh my little Sarah, how you have GROWN!