it goes on.
It's a gentle thing. a collection of moments, evolving into a life. Disclaimers aside, I am enjoying it so. I am fairly certain my memories are intact, at least the best of them. And I also think it is safe to say, my memories are selective. It's easy for me to remember the big stuff. the headliners. but it's the little things that make my toes curl. However. One of the loveliest things about memory, in my humble opinion, is that they can be easily taught. they are open to influence. And it never requires much nudging, at least in my case, to call to mind all the twinkly bits.
I'll remember, for sure, the very moments my boys were born. how happiness came to me the day I wore a new-to-me vintage lace dress. a stolen moment by a lake is forever locked in my heart. and how, thanks to one solid childhood, and loving family, it really is all that it's cracked up to be. I'll not soon forget unconditional love. or how waking up by the ocean is a one-spot-on-show-stopper. I will long hold onto this big lump of gratitude. I'll think back fondly on the way things were and dream of the way they will be. as I settle in. life is deceptively simple, sometimes tragic but mostly, a big boatload of magic. confirming the universal truth, once again, that it goes on. yeah. it goes on. No matter which way I spin it, at the end of the journey, there's that. This thrills me to no end, because I'm sort of an unconditional optimist. I have been know to top off half empty glasses, just to bring them up to snuff and quite possibly just a pinch above. And really, how can that be bad?
Despite my best attempts to slow it all down, another year has come and gone, and I am contemplating it in my usual, quiet way (just go with it). And as is my tradition every single year, I did a re-cap. journals, re-read. scrapbooks, in progress. photos, everywhere. and my new favorite, smash books. the result is layers upon layers of the past unfolding. my life overflowing with memories that are casually whipped about. one gorgeous, ravishingly delicious delight after another. While I believe that I have yet to reach my stride, my peak physical years sadly have come and gone, and today, well, the lines are winning. I'm getting a bit fuzzy, and a few streaks of
still, I take great pleasure in my girlish silliness. my lack of respect for the rules of behavior that are said to apply to people my age. True, I am now squarely centered in that “woman of a certain age” category. I look in the mirror and see the lines on my skin. I feel the weight of the years softly sitting on my shoulders. gently pulling me home. gravity I have found is also not my friend. My faithful bones creak a bit and my back has just the slightest slouch. I'm trying to exercise, stretch, do yoga more. breathing has become more conscious. But for all of the outward changes, the slow but inevitable metamorphoses that the years bring, they cannot even compete with the inward shift in the opposite direction.
So “remember when!” followed immediately by “I was so young!” is a game I play. less rules, more childish chit chat from someone who does not feel old. though the years have rolled by. Indeed, I laugh in the face of Old Man Time and plan to hold on to my childish glee with an ironclad grip. There may be a brief moment when we achieve the perfect balance, when we reach some ideal age, that place in time where it all comes together effortlessly, perfect, pure and sublime, I like to think that time is now. Tonight I'm playing Joni Mitchell on repeat and thinking about life. how fleeting it is. how it rushes by, a whisper blown away on the wind. aging is a strange process, yet somehow it feels pretty magical.
chocolate sandwich cookies with orange filling
(go here for recipe)
(go here for recipe)