It’s a new year and, for me, the start of a new decade. I celebrated my 60th birthday last week – all week long. After a year of dreading this milestone, family and friends helped me embrace the gift of years. Many glasses were raised. Good food eaten. Candles blown. Hugs and kisses shared.
We baby-boomers like to believe that we are aging better than previous generations. “Fifty is the new thirty!” we proclaim. Sixty is “the new forty”. I look around at our close friends and their zest for love, life and laughter make the words ring true. Sure, there are wee signs of aging. We chuckle at the “brain farts” as we race to remember a name. Events we lived through are now recounted in historical documentaries. When did our present become such a distant past?
In the weeks before Christmas, hubby and I welcomed three more grand-babies into the world. We are now parents of five, and Grammy and Papa to nine. The wee ones keep us hopping, and keep us young. The holidays saw us cuddling the newbies, playing with toddlers and pre-schoolers, and sliding down snowy hills with the older kiddies.
I was spoiled with presents on my birthday, but the one that meant the most came from my five children. It is a book, engraved and bound by my talented artist daughter. Inside are five beautifully written letters, engraved in gold. The kids had a bet that this, of all presents, would make me cry. They were right. I had to explain to the little ones that Grammy had “happy tears”!
I’m no longer afraid of being sixty. I have life and love aplenty. I still have dreams to follow. Goals to accomplish.
And many more words to write…