Becca Rowan is a writer and the author of Life in General, a collection of essays about mid-life as experienced by an American woman in the 21st century. Becca loves creating connections by sharing stories on her popular blog.
Within about five square miles of my home there are three new "strip malls" under construction - you know, the little strip of four or five small storefronts, which usually contain nothing you're remotely interested in stopping for - a cell phone store, a quickie haircut place, insurance, cigarettes. Everytime I see an empty section of earth being sacrificed for one of these, or for another supermarket, or Walmart, or gas station, my heart just sinks a little. Why do we need all these places to purchase things? Wouldn't it be so much better to surround ourselves with more land, to cherish those few acres of soil and pond and greenery that are left to us? This poem of Mary Oliver's perfectly reflects my feelings.
Ah, coffee, life's blood in the morning. I've been addicted to this revitalizing brew since I was three years old. Yep, it was my southern grandmother that hooked me on the stuff, and in those days I drank it white with heavy cream and sugar. Now that I'm all grown up, it goes down pure and black. I can literally feel my eyes opening wider and wider with each sip. Throw in the morning paper and I am armed for the day!
In March of this year, I celebrated my 50th birthday, although in the time leading up to that date, I didn't feel as if there were much to celebrate. Until I reached this milestone year, I used to see time strecthing before me like an endless road, so I didn't worry about postponing my plans to write, or travel, or make music, or see friends that lived far away. I figured I could always do that "later." But when I became 50, it seemed as if that endless road of time was being gobbled up, and I was traveling down it at warp speed. I started this blog on my birthday, and I described myself as an "American woman, newly embarking on the second half of her century here on earth." So, if that description is right, and I'm to have another 50 years here, who else might I still be?
I might still be an author, who writes books that speak to the deepest feelings and concerns of other women.
I might still be a musician that plays music people all over the world would love to hear.
I might still be a grandmother, who can provide love, and encouragement to another child in her life, and provide a little wisdom along the way.
I hope to be a better wife and partner, one who is more encouraging, more understanding, more creative about life and loving.
I hope to continue being a fun, loving, mother, and never become a burden or drain on my children's time, energy, or patience!
I hope to be a patient and supportive daughter to my parents as they struggle with old age, and I hope I can find the strength and fortitude necessary to do what needs to be done to ease their passage through this stage of life.
I hope I can remain young in mind and in spirit (well, body would be nice, too!), and not become so deeply grounded in my beliefs and habits that I don't allow myself the opportunity to experience new things in the world around me.
I hope I can be loving and forgiving of myself, when my careful plans for life go awry. I hope that gray hairs, stiff limbs, and a few extra pounds don't cost me my self-esteem or my hard won self-confidence.
Most of all, I hope I'm always willing to learn something new, step outside whatever box I'm in at the moment, and love with all my heart.
To read other's musing about their future selves, go here
I've been inspired by M's lovely Grateful Friday posts, and decided to end Friday/begin Saturday with one of my own. I'm grateful for:
