The first touch of frost dusted the grass and reminded me that, even though we would probably still have some warm days yet, the year was winding down towards winter. There were more months behind us for this year on the calendar than there were left ahead of us.
The year I turned 60 was a lot like that as well. For some reason, as long as I was still in my 50's, I never gave it a thought, but after my birthday I suddenly realized that I had more years behind me than I was likely to have in front of me. That was a sobering thought for sure. It's not as if I thought my days were numbered, but when I looked back at those previous decades, I realized that I could not say with any certainty that my best days were behind me as well. There was nothing outstanding about them except for the birth of my two beautiful daughters which I consider my crowning achievement, but I didn't feel as if I had achieved any of the goals I had set up for myself or made more than one of my dreams come true - leaving the city behind and moving to the country. For a while I wondered if there was still time for me to go for the gold and make the rest of my dreams come true. Was I now "too old" to give birth to them?
Then I discovered my hero, Louise Hay, who affirmed: "Each age has its own special joys and experiences. I am always the perfect age for where I am in life." Maybe that was the key to it all. When I was having and raising my children, I was the perfect age to do that. Now that I am older, and my children are off living their own lives, I am the perfect age to experience the special joys and accomplishments that come with the wisdom of having lived 60+ years. As I sat down at my desk and picked up my pen again, I discovered that my writing had taken on a different hue, a warmer, deeper voice, and I knew that it wouldn't have been possible to write like that in my younger days. I needed a touch of frost, a touch of life experience, to add the color that my writing needed. I have since published two ebooks, have been writing this blog for three years, and am working on a new book that is longer and deeper than anything I have done before. I could not have even begun that project until I had lived it first.
Yesterday morning I woke up to yet another surprise:
Our first snow of the season (no, the bear isn't real. He has been standing guard over my gardens for the last 20 years). It's all gone now, melted away by the Autumn sun and temperatures reaching back for the 50's. Change happens. Seasons change. There are special joys and experiences in each of them and I know I am the perfect age to experience each and every one of them as only I can from where I am in my life.
And so it is.
