Life in the middle

Chugging, huffing, and puffing, I’m halfway to 90. At 45, I’m smack dab in the middle of my life, with enough perspective to see behind me and in front of me. 

It’s been quite a climb to get here. Here, in the middle, I feel like I’m at an apex, and I want to stop and enjoy the view, if only for a minute. 

The 20’s were a time of the most perfect narcissism, a dance of exploring, drinking, dating, and dipping toes into the ocean of independence. The 30’s were a blur of marriage, babies, and career. An underwater, oxygen-deprived journey, coming up for sips of air as needed. 

Like many, I found myself in my 20’s and lost myself in my 30’s. And now, as I climb through my 40’s, my kids are more independent, and I find myself with some long-awaited bits of extra time. 

So I’m digging through the “lost and found” pile to piece together who I am now, emerging from the first half of my life admittedly a little shell-shocked and dusty. Peeking my head out, wide-eyed, asking, “What’s next?”

I’m in the middle, and it’s time to reclaim myself, piece by lovely piece.

It’s time to write and create and do whatever makes me feel alive. 

It’s time to be with friends and laugh and listen with an open heart.

It’s time to sit still and watch the sky. To listen to the breeze ruffle the palm trees. To smell the sea air and exhale to the bottom of my belly. 

It’s time to love myself, unapologetically. And be a little mischievous. 

I’m in the middle, and I’m looking ahead. It feels bittersweet but mostly sweet. I know there will be hills and valleys and dark days. Maybe there will be excruciating sadness or exhilarating joy or ho-hum boredom. 

But I feel myself settling into my own skin, enjoying the view behind me and relishing the journey ahead.