Posted tagged ‘teenager’

“There’s milestones on the Dover Road.”

April 4, 2014

Sun, we have sun. Fern is even lying by the front door where the sun is streaming through the glass onto the floor. It is chilly still, but spring chilly, not winter cold. Today is the home opener for the Red Sox. The pre-game will have much hoopla as they will be receiving their World Series rings and the championship flag will be raised. My friends and I are watching together and will be eating baseball food as if we were at the park only we’ll be warmer and closer to the bathroom. I’ll be wearing my new Red Sox sweatshirt, a gift from my sister at Christmas. It’s red as befitting the team and the holiday.

When I was young, I didn’t give a whole lot of thought to the future. It always amazed me when people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I didn’t know what I was going to do on Saturday let alone in ten or fifteen years. When I was twelve, I couldn’t wait to be thirteen, a teenager with all the rights and privileges which came with that magic number. When I turned thirteen, there wasn’t any magic. I was shocked. My sixteenth birthday, my sweet sixteenth birthday, was a total disappointment. We were on vacation with my aunt and uncle and my birthday was their anniversary so the cake had Happy Birthday and Happy Anniversary written across it. I hated it. I wanted fireworks and balloons as this was a significant birthday, a milestone, but, instead, it was a total bust. Eighteen didn’t mean much in those days. We were all waiting to be twenty-one, the big birthday with so much attached. My twenty-first birthday lived up to its hype. My boyfriend at the time gave me a magnum of champagne, and my friends took me out to dinner. They got drunk and forgot to pay the bill so I did. I registered to vote. According to the law, I was now an adult. I took that with mixed emotions.

The last big celebration was when I turned sixty. My sister flew out from Colorado, and the three of us, my two sisters and I, spent the day in Boston, took a tour of Fenway and went to the ballgame. That was my gift from them, and it was great one.

Birthdays are special to me, each one a milestone, another year of life well-lived. It’s not my birthday. I just got to thinking.

“There is no old age. There is, as there always was, just you.”

January 17, 2014

Today will reach 45˚ and tonight we’ll have snow showers. It’s no wonder people go stir crazy in winter. Mother Nature gives us this lovely day with sun and blue skies then whacks us with snow while we’re sleeping. Tomorrow may rain or it may snow. The day sounds ugly. I suppose I shouldn’t expect much as the Spring Equinox is a long way off, March 20 at 12:57 P.M, which means more of winter is ahead than behind. The only consolation is every day gets a bit longer.

Gracie and I may go out riding today. We were in all day yesterday. I read, and Gracie napped and snored. The cats too napped but that’s what they usually do. I paid my bills. The bed got made and the house got cleaned. It was a productive day.

I am long passed needing to accomplish anything on a given day. It just so happened yesterday. I think I polished the furniture one day last week, but I’ll have to check my diary to see, as if…I do need to water the plants. I’ll have to work up to that task.

When I was a kid, I couldn’t wait to be a teenager, and when I was teenager, I couldn’t wait to be twenty-one, legal to drink and to vote, an interesting combination. Thirty struck me hard. I was part of the, “Never trust anyone over thirty,” generation, and we were all there or even beyond it. I didn’t mind being forty. It was just a number, but fifty threw me for a loop. I was half a hundred, half a century old. There was no other way to think of it. I retired at fifty-seven, a lucky number just because of circumstances. For my sixtieth birthday my sisters and I took a tour of Fenway, went out to dinner then to a Sox game. It was a perfect celebration. All of my friends and I are now on the backside of sixty. One of my friends will be sixty-nine this year. That boggles my mind. How can that be?


%d bloggers like this: