On this bright, sunshiny, frigid North Dakota morning, I sit here and count my blessings. My house is warm, I can hear my washer chugging away in the basement so I know I will have clean clothes to wear tomorrow, and I have just consumed a scone from a newer business in Minot called Prairie Sky Breads. Who could ask for a better start to the day?
I turned 50 recently, and with that comes a lot of things to be joyful about. Yes, you read that correctly. Turning 50 years old is worth celebrating!
What?! Crazy talk, you say? No, not at all. So many women get hung up on aging as though it were the worst thing in the world. Maybe some ladies have relied on their youth and beauty to get by in life, and seeing that change over the years bothers them. Being rather average that way, my looks are nothing that bothers me to see change, in large part.
To be honest, reaching this milestone age has allowed me to shed a whole lot of care for what people think of me. What others think is their business, let them wrangle with it if they need to waste time and energy on useless thoughts.
Being 50 brings a lot of freedom. Behold just a few of the reasons this is so:
I am so lucky to be an empty-nester, having successfully launched my two boys, who are amazing young men, and productive citizens in each their own right. I am not responsible for anyone but myself at the moment, and I really enjoy the freedom.
I own my house, and can change it however I want. Last year was the “Year of Decrappify and Spiff”. I did a lot of that, and continue those efforts into 2019. I took a week off recently and had work done to my house, which I will elaborate on later, and it has helped me get further along in my goal of being happy where I live. The freedom to fix things up to suit my tastes, my interests, and my needs is a lovely thing.
I have almost reached the 10 year mark of when I learned I was getting divorced. I just realized this yesterday, sitting with the afghan I made myself when I turned 40. It’s been used a lot over the last 10 years, and that wear shows. It still keeps me warm, and fits me just right. It makes me happy to know that my handiwork held up through bad times, and carried me right into the good ones too. It’s a reminder to me that good times come and go, but you can do things for yourself that get you through the bad times. The bad times never really last forever, and that is something I’m always grateful for.
This week, Older Son came to visit, and had supper with me. While he sat in my new rocker-recliner groaning for having eaten too much spaghetti, I threw my afghan on top of him, and he grabbed it and pulled it up around his chin. I think I got a bigger kick out of that than his having missed my cooking so much he over did it. I hope that little blanket keeps generations of my family warm after I am gone.
I am constantly reminded that there are all kinds of things, large and small to be grateful for every day. I’m grateful to have made it to 50, and am looking forward to what the future brings.
Here’s hoping you find even the tiniest thing to be grateful about at whatever age you occupy now. Gratefulness really is the key to being happy. Blessings all!