Well, What Do You Know
Well, hello there. Today I have turned 64. Happy birthday to me.
I am happy to report that I still cannot reliably dress myself. This is documented. The underwear situation alone could fill a chapter. We talked about the socks last month. We are not going back there. The one thing I can say with almost absolute certainty about myself is that I am almost always never late. Almost. Well. Maybe once. High school. We had to finish singing our song. It was important. I stand by it.
64 feels like 54 but older.
Body parts that were reliably in one location at 25 may have shifted a bit by 54. By 64, they are in full revolt. They have a mind of their own, and they have stopped taking my calls. I went into a store recently, and the young woman behind the counter called me ma'am. Yes ma'am. Yes ma'am. Not rude. Just accurate. And I thought, well, there it is. Who am I to argue? I am a ma'am. That is the correct form of address. Carry on.
64 is an age. It is not a state of mind. Until we actually are it. And then we realize the story we were told about what this age looks like had very little to do with what it actually feels like from the inside. From the inside, it just feels like more of us. Not less.
Let us be clear. 64 beats the alternative of not being 64. Since time only moves in one direction, this is kind of where I find myself. I look in the mirror and think who the hell is that. I think about the time that has passed and the time that is in front of me. I think about all that I have shared and experienced and all I have yet to share and experience.
I have not yet seen the Milky Way in a dark sky, nor have I seen whales. Those are still in front of me, and I intend to get there. Soon.
Here is what I know for sure today. Authenticity at 64 is not performing warmth, I do not feel. It is knowing the difference between wanting you to like me and needing you to. I still want you to like me. I want to be clear about that. I am not performing indifference. But somewhere between 50 and 64, I crossed a line I did not notice crossing. I want you to like me. I just do not need it the way I used to. And that difference, that small, enormous difference, is the whole story.
Which is maybe what the get off my lawn stage of life is really about. Not crankiness. Sovereignty. I know what it costs to grow this lawn. I know what it took to keep it. And I am no longer leaving the gate open for people who do not know how to wipe their feet. That is not mean. That is honest.
In all seriousness. I am genuinely and completely grateful. For you. For everyone in my life and everyone who has passed through it, leaving an impression on me, with me, and for me. I carry them. In my heart. Whether I see them every day or not at all. They are there. Every one of them, every one of you.
Even the ones that were not necessarily the nicest. Even the pain and the sadness. All of that leads to where I am right now. 64.
Happy birthday to me.
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The Returning Project is a space where women reclaim who they truly are, beyond who they were told to be. New posts every Sunday.
Inward. Onward. Go.
