Monday will mark my 41st year and it got me to thinking. Actually, I became very reflective each October after I turned twenty-six. That was the year that I truly believed that I was no longer a child and the years were going by more quickly. At twenty-six I was afraid of getting old. Now at 41, I find that notion ridiculous. What the hell was I scared of?

Remember when you were about to celebrate your twenty-first birthday? I do. Man, I thought I was grown then. Twenty-one was a milestone for all of us. For me the year was 1985. Ronald Reagan was sworn in for his second term as President. Tina Turner won a Grammy award for Record of the Year with What’s Love Got To Do With It and Rock Hudson died of AIDS.

In 1985 I was dating a guy who I would later break up with because I knew he would never marry me. He eventually did marry a friend of mine. After many years together and two children, she decided that she was really into women and left him. I get a certain amount of sick satisfaction out of that.

At 21, I had no husband and no children and my biggest worry was having something nice to wear for the upcoming weekend.

At 41, I’ve had two husbands, two children and my biggest worry is paying for my children’s education.

At 21, I rented. At 41, I own.
At 21, I drove a beat up used car. At 41, I drive a not-so-beat up used car.
At 21, I drank Southern Comfort. At 41, I drink Cosmopolitans and good red wine.
At 21, I weighed 134 pounds. At 41, I weigh 126 pounds.
At 21, I thought I was cute. At 41, I know I am beautiful.
At 21, I lived in Connecticut. At 41, Virginia is my home.

I’ve gone through a lot of changes in twenty years. I’m looking forward to Monday. I’m looking forward to the rest of my life. I’m going to watch my son graduate in two short years. Thinking about that makes me misty. Anyway, my point is that I’m no longer afraid of getting old. At 30 years old I nearly had a fit because I thought that was the beginning of the end. I can be so daggone dramatic sometimes.

Thirty was not the end. There was a time when I thought that 21 was the beginning. I’m more of the mind that each year is a new beginning for me. I’m thankful. I’m blessed. I have another opportunity to be good to those around me. I have another opportunity to be good to me.

Dance Class Update: Sixteen-8 counts is a lot of dancing to memorize. I worked up a sweat and I didn’t look like such a doofus. I feel more comfortable and I’m going to continue with the class. The key is to stop watching the other “dancers”. Those heifers throw me off.