Today, I woke up 39.
It didn't exactly slide up on me unnoticed. I mean, in case I didn't realize I was getting older, the year brought plenty of reminders.
To start the year off right, my gall bladder attacked me because I ate a cheeseburger and topped it off with frozen custard. It had to be removed in an emergency surgery so I began 38 missing an organ and unable to enjoy my own birthday cake. That'll remind you what age does to a body.
My little boy turned 18. And then he graduated. So there was that. That hurt. A lot.
Then my little freckle-faced girl turned 16- driving age. Ouch. We had our first driving lesson this week. As we rolled up over the curb and cruised along all lopsided, I was grateful to be approaching 39. The years have brought some patience and the ability to weather a potential catastrophe with at least a little grace.
Last week, my middle child turned 13. She officially became a teenager. May God have mercy on our souls.
Oh...and there is the long streak of gray hair that won't quite join any of my other curls. It greets me every morning when I look in the mirror. It sort of separates from my long curls and stands up on it's own as if to say "hey old woman! How yer doern?"
So, I knew it was coming, and it's okay. I have one more year to enjoy being in my thirties. I can live with that.
C'mon 39. Let's do this thing.