Today I’m feeling my age. I awoke to breakfast in bed and Kiki Wonder cuddling under the covers to steal my warmth. Coffee and cinnamon and winter greeted my nose. Sam even went out to a fancy bakery at 7 o’clock this morning to get me my favorites, including some gourmet salads for lunch. And what did I do to say thank you? I started to cry.
It feels like it goes so fast sometimes. One day I was wearing head-gear at night wondering if a boy would ever like me. I thought I was doomed to spend my whole life alone in my childhood bedroom. That I’d always have bad hair and an awkward body and a stash of dreams and wishes hidden in the back of my closet. The Violent Femmes played over and over on the boombox as my soundtrack.
And then I blinked or maybe I passed out from a car accident I can’t remember because I got amnesia? Anyway, whatever happened, the next thing I knew I was definitely not in my childhood bedroom anymore. I was paying bills and slathering on anti-aging creams and battling to keep my saggy parts up. There was a dog and a man and a job and yet still the bad hair. The soundtrack in the background was less Violent Femmes and more jazzy folk. How the heck did I get here?
After Sam left this morning, confused and befuddled over my tears of breakfast in bed, I looked in the mirror and took stock. I know that when I’m 65, I’ll look back and feel silly, but right now, today, in this moment – I don’t want to get any older than I am right now. I don’t want to feel like the ride’s almost done. I just want to pause it here for awhile. I want the show to slow down and I want to cram some more adventures in. I still have that cache of dreams and wishes filling the back of my closet and I want to do them all.