It’s weird to get older. I remember listening to Bonnie Raitt when I was a teenager. I was a little embarrassed that I liked her so much, so I listened in the quiet of my room or riding alone in the Pinto. But I liked her. She had that song that went: “I see my folks they’re getting on and I watch their bodies change, I know they see the same in me and it makes us both feel strange.” And I remember, even then in my 15 year old body, thinking that some day I would be old. Someday I would be an adult and would see those things change in me and in those around me. I am surprised to get to 33 with so much and so little in my life. I can’t say that I ever dreamed of much. I never wanted to get married or wear a big white dress. I never wanted kids or a family. I never wanted much of anything except to be successful. I think I never learned how to look up and to dream. And the gift of getting older for me has been that I get to live dreams that I never dreamt. I get to find joy in small places.
Although my life might not be a sweet package of middle class perfection, I am alright with that. And surprisingly, I am also alright with people that have that life. Before I was judgmental. Bitchy and judgmental about people that chose the path of marriage/home/family. But now I look at my many friends with this life and I am truly happy for them. I am glad that they get to live their life the way that they want. And I am also glad and less defensive about the life that I am living. My joys might not be so obvious. I might have many nights alone or holidays without Norman Rockwell in attendance, but that’s okay. My joys now, for this moment, come from the small places in my life.
They come from being able to go to see my favorite band and sing along screaming my heart out. They come in shopping for Thanksgiving and dancing in the aisles with my partner in crime to the blasting disco music. They come from talking and joking with the cook who made me my lunch today. They come when I am on my knees in the morning praying. They come when I sit and write and think about life. They come when I talk about the weather with the local fisherman who’s been trolling the Pacific Rim for the last 45 years. These are my small joys. And they are mine.
As I approach this birthday, the first one in a long time that has gotten under my skin, I am glad. I may not have the life that I imagined, but the truth is that I never imagined much for myself. And that makes what I have sweeter and more precious than anything I could have ever pictured in my younger mind.
So for all of us out there sitting with just a tinge of existential angst, I guess we know that we are not alone. And even in the irony and opposition of these two ideas, I can’t deny it. No matter how much I may feel it, I know that I am never alone.