I've completed one-third of my life journey and now, I am on the dawn of a new third; which will be something else entirely. I don't actually believe I will live to be 105, but I am willing to aim for 101.
|35 years ago. I am certain he was telling me to be quiet. I talk a lot.|
Like every 30-something, I've learned a lot, but still feel like a kid. Sometimes I forget how far away college was and how close true middle-age is. I am now officially of advanced maternal age; an old pregnant lady.
In 35 years, I am have not written a book nor have I published my own magazine nor have I completed any graduate work. The 20-something Trish, wanted those things very, very much and I even set my internal deadline to be 35.
I never reset my goals, I merely moved away from them.
In 35 years, I've done more than I ever could have aimed for--I've traveled places I only dreamed of and I've walked the path of someone I never really thought I would be. Somehow, the girl who disliked children, is surrounded by them and the young woman who scoffed at the lives of housewives, is one. The kid who was scared of everything has battled illness and fought cancer along side her daughter and spoken out loud for everything she believes in. The woman who wanted to have it all: has it. But it all, is not what I expected it to be.
Two kids. A third on the way. A husband. A giant dog. A house in suburbs. Friends near and far, who are family. Family near and far, who are friends. And I am writer--not the writer I imagined, but the writer of my own truth, which was somehow hidden beneath the weight of goals and ambition.
So for the second third, there will be no goals, no deadlines and absolutely no ambition. It will be light; the flowing, gentle part of my existence. No weight on these shoulders. Just my pen, my children, my husband, my friends and my family. And my giant dog.
35. Here's to 70 more years.