Isn’t it funny that when we were 12
We thought 18 was old.
We thought, in our 20s, that luxury was Chateaubriand and hollandaise sauce
And didn’t even know what cholesterol was.
In our 30s, life accelerated.
Children demanded and husbands requested and work insisted.
We faced the big 40 with dread and knowledge.
We knew about crow’s feet and wrinkles and gray hair and hormones
But no one told us about facial bleach and bunions, bifocals, and carbs.
And then 50.
Good God, 50.
Suddenly, we stopped bringing up numbers in conversations.
Maybe because they don’t matter
Or they limit us somehow
And put us into cubbies where we don’t belong.
Because we’ve learned the lesson of time itself and maybe life.
What counts is family, love, friendship, and laughter.
The numbers can go to hell.
Karen Ranney Copyright 2014