|A moment. Kathy and I at Ryan's wedding.|
Reflecting on 47
The worlds softest, sweetest dog is asleep on my feet. The sun is shining. The sky is the perfect shade of blue with puffy white clouds that are drifting by at a snails pace and the humidity is low. Today is July 11th. My Birthday. It’s always this nice on my birthday. For as long as I can remember I’ve woken up on July 11th with a sense of excitement and anticipation. The 48th time this morning was no different. I ate pancakes and drank an entire cup of coffee before it got cold. I stayed in my pajamas for as long as I wanted to. Today I choose to not wander too far from my yard. Today I want to think about how nice (and sometimes not so nice) 47 was and scheme some dreams for 48.
This one day is all about me. These couple of things happened and are going to shape my dreams for 48:
I hosted Thanksgiving for the first time. We had just enough chairs and a perfectly moist turkey. I’d like to do it again. I’d like all my sisters to be here. It seems harder and harder to all be in the same place at the same time for something happy. The older I get, the more I miss the ho hum day to day chit chat with them.
I have the nicest friends who don’t seem to mind if I budge in and dance with them at the Company Christmas party. I’m a solid party of 1 thanks to them and their kind, open hearts.
I had the heater replaced in our cute little house and spent the winter smiling every time it blew hot air on us and warmed our toes. I slept peacefully knowing we were not going to die of carbon monoxide poisoning. Also, the amount of snow that fell was not at all horrifying. This makes me feel more prepared for next winter. I feel like the only thing I have to do is buy a new furnace filter and we’re ready for anything.
In March, my step sister Kathleen Mary Waffner died. I feel fortunate to have been with my family all day at the hospital. For as awful as it was, it was also beautiful to feel so intertwined. We prayed, cried, laughed, grew tired and hungry. We drank whiskey out of waxed paper cups and watched our sister struggle to breath until she finally let go and shed that broken body. That was it. Just like that. She was gone. She stopped being amongst us living. Sometimes I forget for a minute that it happened and it takes my breath away. I imagine the hospital staff viewed us, her gathered people, as a polite fiasco. That is my family. These are the people I love the most. We are one man down.
I started a vegetable garden. The thought of not reaping the harvest of an asparagus bed for 3 years sent me into a bit of a tail spin tho. In three years Lily will be a freshman at college. Could I make her an asparagus quiche on the weekend? What if she isn’t living close enough to come home on the weekends? How could I eat all that asparagus myself? Does it freeze well? OMG I am going to be 50 by the time I can pick this asparagus. End result = my vegetable garden is doing well. I did not plant asparagus.
My Grandmother, Josephine Patitucci, turned 91 and drove her and a girlfriend over to our house for a Memorial Day parade celebration. I aspire to be that interested in life at 91.
My kid is the opposite of what I believed to be true about teenagers. We certainly have some sassy ass moments together but she continues to be my brightest light and person that makes my heart soar.
I have a job that I like. I love my house and feel safe. I have friends that I can’t imagine my life without. Someone pinch me. How did I ever get to be so lucky?