Today I turned forty-nine, and there’s only one thing I know for sure: I’m older than I’ve ever been. I also like to think I’m wiser than I’ve ever been, though not as wise as I hope to someday be. Which means, all in all, this is a pretty good day.
The air is warmer than it was last week, and people seem to be slowing down, in spite of the rapid approach of the Thanksgiving holiday. Or maybe it’s because of the impending holiday. Who knows? One last chance to savor the soft air before we dive headfirst into celebrations that will manage to keep us so busy until the frigid air of January stops us clean in our tracks. On my way to the community garden, I passed an elderly gentleman stringing Christmas lights about his yard while the sun shone in the bright blue autumn sky. I heard a grandmother singing a hauntingly beautiful melody to a baby she cradled in her arms, rocking from one leg to the other, catching the warmth in her sunny driveway on our busy street. I eavesdropped as a concerned citizen raised issues with a local political figure attempting to walk his dog in the park, unable to shed his duties even long enough for a quiet stroll.
It’s difficult to find words to share how much this all means to me today. To be alive. Suffice it to say, I feel lucky to live in this beautiful, diverse land called California, and even luckier to love and be loved.
