Day 24: On Turning 42

this is me, giving myself
a scolding look. Notice the one white stripe,
the only place the sunscreen actually landed.

I keep reading these articles about being 42 and honestly, they're enough to make you cry (my friend Mindy and I often do just that after reading about our body's betrayals that are yet to come). Today I am suffering a terrible sun burn.I never used to burn; rather, I'd turn a golden brown almost as soon as the season's change. That got me thinking about aging and the ways it's both changing and strengthening me. There's something wistful, but freeing about being newly in my 40s. Using Billy Collins "On Turning 10" as my mentor text for today, I wrote about Turning 42.



On Turning 42

The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm turning a corner towards something,
though I'm not sure if it's a welcome direction. 
Am I just lost, like usual? Or am I finding my way towards something?
It's a kind of liberation of the spirit, 
but also a weird limiting of the body, 
a surging of the soul. 

You tell me I'm too old to still feel this young, 
to dance with abandon, to be so silly, so ridiculous. 
But that's because you don't know yet
what it's like to straddle memories
that don't feel so distant, 
and the present, in a self that has all those pieces of the past. 
I can lie on my bed and remember
at 20 I was fearless and stupid.
At 30 I still didn't know quite who I was,
but one day, the mirror shifted into focus and
There. I. Was. 

Now I am mostly behind the wheel
of my minivan, 
ushering kids into their own adolescence,
plucking my chin hairs at stoplights,
wondering when all my jeans stopped
being stylish (and fitting). 

A late period could go either way: and which is better?
Tender breasts an omen?
My body does things I don't recognize,
acne, hair that sparkles, rosy cheeks. 
They call it second adolescence, 
But I wasn't prepared for this one. 

It seems only yesterday that I felt afraid all the time.
I was afraid that if you looked to close, 
you'd think I was a fraud. A kid playing grownup. 

Now, though, I know who I am
with a certainty I've never had before. 
All the layers coming together, 
forming a base, stronger than before.

I need to make a choice -- a tonal shift.
Rather than lamenting what has passed,
it's time to throw my arms open wide.
To let the soft animal love what it loves, 
to be married to the amazement
of turning 42.