This Is 61

Do you remember the 21st night of September?

Well, on the 21st night of September in 1965, I was born. I don’t remember that first one, but I sure do remember a lot of them since. The years of kids birthday parties and my mom carrying a giant birthday cake. The preteen sleepover parties. The college years and young mother years and divorced years and remarried years and stepmother years and library director years and so many more.

They’ve all brought me to this. 61.

I feel happy and content. Strong and resilient. Respected and appreciated.

Mostly, though, I feel grateful. Grateful for a life that is full of love, a husband who fills me with joy, kids and grandkids that I am proud of, a circle of friends that is beyond anything I ever pictured, and a job that is not only important but also fun and deeply satisfying.

I hope I get a lot more 21st nights of September.