Today, I am 40.
I have been told (and have often felt like) I have been 40 since I was 6. But now I am officially, unequivocally 40 years old, and I have some thoughts about it.

These days the Sheltons are making two pots of coffee. We’re starting school a little later and eating a lot more carbs. The wildlife around the house has always been active, but it seems in an all out explosion over the last few weeks. It is a hard time; it is a good time. These are true in equal measure, and this is uncomfortable.

Whew.
That’s the best summation of the last few months of life. A hearty Whew! and a not-so-fond farewell. Unlike the large majority of people I am hearing from, 2019 for me was not a complete dumpster fire. It had its moments that I’d prefer not to relive thankyouverymuch, but I experienced so much good last year. Growth, easing into more of myself, finding work that pulled me out of my comfort zone and inspired me to dig deeper and become better… these are all part of my 2019, and I am grateful for them.

Here’s the thing: is there a world in which we stop the gifting of things?

Hear me when I say I love a thoughtful gift. LOVE. I also feel an anxiousness around gathering a not-so-small fortune of gadgets and gizmos aplenty for my people when the holidays roll around.

My due date was supposed to be late last week, which means I would have probably been in labor right about now. I am always later than my due date. 

But I am not in labor. I won’t be. I’m only laboring through the days with a heaviness that won’t lessen with a birth. It is the heaviness of early September. I’ve known it for 15 years and, it seems, I’ll know it for a lifetime.

“It is difficult to undo our own damage, and to recall to our presence that which we have asked to leave. It is hard to desecrate a grove and change your mind. The very holy mountains are keeping mum. We doused the burning bush and cannot rekindle it; we are lighting matches in vain under every green tree.” — Annie Dillard, Teaching A Stone To Talk