when the rebel yells

FIVE-O

Oh My God — I’m 50! A part of me is shocked that I am actually here, the part that also is shocked that I made three human beings and we (there has been a much beloved partner in all these crimes) have been raising them to throw out into the world! One of them within a year’s time. It just blows me away. And while my mind doesn’t feel fifty — shockingly I’ve always been a bit scattered and have never had a rock star memory so the bonus for me right now is that there is no truly noticeable decline from the diminished levels it has always been (for as long as I can remember - but how reliable that may be is questionable), but my body hasn’t been following along with the plan. When the Rebel yells — Oy — I have definitely been disappointed at my body’s attitude and performance as of late. There is disharmony at the moment and I continue to apply the mind over matter hoping that the mind stays tough.

A dear friend (there are seven of us heading to New Orleans at the moment), asked if I felt anything regarding hitting this much celebrated milestone. I think I started answering no, not really, but then I stopped. I feel like I am much more reflective lately. This past year has given more than enough time to peruse the scattered recesses of my brain, sifting through the memories and moments that have left an indelible imprint on my mind or soul. I also have been thinking about what is down the road — for our girls, their plans and exploits, for Andre with work, me with what next?, and then the two of us with what do we do for the rest of our lives after this phase is over? As he passes me, stiffly lying on the sofa with my stocking feet propped up, my head cradled on an ice pack, I can’t help but wonder if he is like, “Holy shit! Look at her — she’s always been moving a mile a minute, active, running — hardly ever sitting still and now look at her. Ugh?! What the hell are we going to do with this hot mess?!” He reassures me, when I sometimes get weepy and insecure about my current less than tip top state that this will never be the cases. In the back of my head I try to blot out all the old dudes that apply the “half their age + seven” formula with younger, more enthusiastic partners. I need to chill out. I also have three girls that will make my replacement’s life absolute hell if he ever gives me the boot. Insurance.