So I am officially 44 years old. It feels weird to say I am 44; I am nothing like what I thought a 44 year old me would look like. I feel like life and opportunities have just flown by me, too fast for me to grab onto them. I truly believed that at 44 I would be a mom of 2 to 6 kids. I thought I would be climbing to the peak of my critical care nursing career, that I would be in a place of certainty. What is that saying again? "When you make plans the universe laughs".
My actual 44 year old self will never be blessed with human children. My chosen career is not within my abilities anymore, and my world is not a very certain place. And it is easy to get trapped in those thoughts.
So, this year for my birthday I wanted something simple, something that always anchors me and reminds me of the value of the now and the worth of the life I actually live. A peaceful walk in the woods on one of my birthdays (I celebrate over 4 days...as @iamtabithabrown says #ICanIfIWantToBecauseItsMyBusiness) . And I remember watching the forest whipping by the car window and it felt like such a great analogy for life. I couldn't enjoy the sights and smells and sounds that I love about the woods because it was moving by faster than I could feel, smell, see it. But once we got out of the car and started walking, I realized there is value to moving slowly and mindfully.
Slow allows me to appreciate the little details. The moss and fern covered trees, my lovely hubby and our two little furry kids, The mist hanging above the trees, that smell of freshness and earth, the feeling of connection to all the living organisms around you. I know it sounds a little Woo Woo, but really, who cares. It makes me feel less alone and appreciative of all I have in this different 44 year old life.
And as some of you who may have seen my story a few days back will know, our trip to the forest came to a screeching halt when our #CrazyOldMan , Miguel, decided it was a good idea to go threaten an innocent, well behaved, 6 month old pup. I swear the doggy kids work overtime to make up for our lack of human kids. We quickly left before that child could get into any more trouble