Today is my birthday. I woke up early because I just wanted to have a few hours to contemplate things in solitude. I wanted to sit with all of the thoughts that come with 51.
Before the world is completely awake, I settle into my rocking armchair. I should make coffee. Coffee would be really good. I have chocolate milk, and that would undoubtedly start the birthday shenanigans off on a decadent and silly foot. Huzzah. Maybe in a few minutes when I can better coordinate my brain and body to work together.
I am realizing quite a few things about myself. I question if this is a woman’s version of a mid-life crisis? The becoming. The disappearing. Let me explain… When women hit 50, some of us lean into the role of crone. Once we step into that role, we become something completely different than we were. And in that transformation, we also become invisible. That is the disappearing. Society treats women over 50 as if we are irrelevant.
I am not quite ready to fade into the fog, never to be seen again, or anything, lol. I just noticed how I am treated in public. Especially now that I am growing out my hair and letting the grand old gray show. I saw someone call it moon lights instead of highlights. Cute.
We had plans for today. A beach day. But yesterday, I took note of my body signals. My energy has been really low, my pain levels were higher than usual, and my muscles and joints were tight. We live near Boyle Heights, where a warehouse has been on fire for almost a week, and the toxic smoke seems to be everywhere. We are hit in the face by the smell as soon as we open our front door. There is still an advisory in effect, so we are not doing much outside. All of those factors played into my decision to cancel our day at the beach.
I would rather play my day by ear, comfy at home. If I want to relax, I will. If I want to work, I will. There is a small pile of gifts from my bff, Rick, and Zoe. There is a Neapolitan cake in the fridge. Snacks and soda. Let the day be whatever it is. I am content with whatever will be. Rick’s mom sent one hundred dollars for a nice dinner. We were tempted to use the money for other things, but damn it, we have been doing without for quite a while, and doing something nice sounds like a remedy for a weary soul.
Rick made reservations for a new restaurant called the Witch’s Cottage. It is a fantasy atmosphere immersive sort of spot. Right up my alley. Grilled cheese sandwich flights, jewel toned devilled eggs, cocktails crafted like spells, desserts that look like I will be healed just by eating it. Rick was so thoughtful in choosing. I had wanted him to surprise me, but I figured it out when he told me to wear my witchy Victorian ball gown. The reservation is for tomorrow, so tonight will be mellow. Pizza rolls and game night? Cool.
I am going to go make my coffee.
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