The early risers among you may have caught this post yesterday when I mistakenly published…
Today is my birthday and, as you can surmise from the title of this post, I am 58 years old.
I’ve been thinking about how it feels to be 58 and the only real conclusion I have drawn is that it doesn’t feel like how I thought it would. I don’t feel like a grown up and I don’t feel like I’ve got much of anything figured out. But I do feel like I’m living the life I’m supposed to be living and I’m right where I’m supposed to be. I’m pretty fulfilled and happy, I have satisfying work and money to pay my bills with enough left over to save and invest. I have a husband and kids and grandkids who love me, I have a small circle of very special friends and a larger circle of really wonderful friends who are there for me in good times and bad. I have volunteer work and civic work that keeps me engaged and involved. And on top of all of that I have books and knitting and gardening and cats.
And a blog that connects me with all of you. I couldn’t ask for more, really. Thanks for being here.