This is 40
In true Gemini fashion, I started celebrating my birthday over a month ago with a girl's trip to Scottsdale, which mainly consisted of belly laughs, salty margaritas, and too many outfit changes to count. Back in early May, under the Arizona sun, I felt grateful to be surrounded by my closest friends and for the ability to walk down Whiskey Row without my prosthetic leg failing me- although it did beep low battery on the dance floor of a rowdy club one night. Here I was, turning forty, an age that most women are taught to dread. But I'm still alive and "kicking," so who am I to complain about reaching middle age? Ask me if I'm too insecure to wear short skirts and dance around at age forty with my robot leg on display. The fact that I am physically able and healthy enough to do so is enough inspiration for me.
I'm not sure I truly faced my own mortality when I was diagnosed or even when my cancer returned more aggressively. It wasn't until the people I had connected with online for mutual support and understanding didn't make it to 30 or 40. It was the sadness of the loss of their lives that reminded me I couldn't waste the chance I'd been given. None of us know what tomorrow brings. No matter how healthy and perfect our lives may seem, we should never take the future for granted. It isn't guaranteed. There is no white picket fence outside of the movies. Coming to understand that is half the battle.
Thank you, universe, for the privilege of watching myself grow older each year. Thank you for the creases under my eyes; they are simply more rings in my tree—more moments of joy, trips to far places, warm embraces, delicious meals, first sips of coffee, champagne toasts, time, and the extra motivation to enjoy it for those who never got the chance. Every year means more wisdom, without regret over my past mistakes- opportunities to learn in the game of life and give myself and others grace. In my youth, I was someone with only slivers visible of the woman I wholly am today. Oh, how I appreciate it all. The good, the great, the worst. The trip here. I welcome forty and all the ways it will teach me and enchant me with its charm. This is level 40 Super Mario, and I don't need to be Princess Peach in the castle waiting to be rescued by a mustached plumber in overalls. I've learned enough to kick the gates down myself and give the dragon hell.
