55 Eve

Today is my last day of being 54.  At 2:28 tomorrow morning, my odometer flips to 55.  I'm not sure how I feel about this.  40 was traumatic.  I cried a lot.  At 45 I still had a little one to navigate through growing up and finding herself in the world, so my focus was anywhere but the number I had to put on forms.  50 happened during the whole COVID mess.  Disappointing that this milestone had to go by without the celebration I'd been looking forward to.  And now 55.  I'll say all the things everyone says, because, why not:  I don't feel a day over 30 (except for that pinched nerve in my back that just happened while I was brushing my teeth this morning).  If 50 is the new 40 then 55 is the new 45, right?  Maybe in terms of life expectancy, but 50 is still 50.  I'm growing old gracefully, embracing the wrinkles (laugh lines) and gray hair (silvery sparkles), but I did go pink for awhile earlier this year.  My memory isn't what it used to be, but maybe I don't have to remember as many things these days.  My knees hurt, but I can predict rain.  My migraines can predict barometric pressure.  Hormones have me sweating pretty much 24/7, but I appreciate a cool breeze so much more now.  My fingers are still and weird-looking, but at least I can still type and cross-stitch.  I wear bifocal contact lenses, but still need readers to see the little stuff--many of my friends and family can't even do that, and I've been the beneficiary of their cast-off craft supplies.  

One thing I find myself reflecting on as each new birthday comes into view is:  have I done enough?  I've had (blank) number of years on this planet, and have I taken all the opportunities I can to improve it?  I haven't traveled as much as I thought I would, but at this point in my life, I'm more of a homebody, so I really don't care about that, except for the few friends I have overseas that I'd like to visit someday, and I would love to go back to Hawaii, particularly on December 7 of some year.  I haven't hang-glided or jumped out of an airplane or bungee jumped, but I have jumped off a cliff into a river and whitewater rafted--that's extreme enough for me (you can call me a coward if you want).  And I really don't care what other people think.  To me, that's the greatest gift of getting older:  coming in to my own, knowing who I am and being confident in myself without seeking the approval of others or being bothered by their judgment.  And this extends to my views on other people, as well--recognizing that my opinion truly doesn't matter and that everyone is just trying to get through this life in one piece, and my judgment is a detriment to that.

Which brings me back to my question:  have I made the world a better place in this almost 55 years I've been here?  Probably.  Before I get hate comments about my ego, I think most people have done something in their lives that makes the world better, just as most of us have done something that makes it worse.  We all have uttered a careless phrase that hurts someone.  We've all thrown away something that could have been recycled, out of convenience.  Everyone has felt a little jolt of delight at killing the bug that has invaded their home.  We all spend time in selfish pursuits, time that could have been better spent reaching out to our neighbor, our enemy, our world.  But how many times have we held a door open for someone?  How many times have we told someone we love them?  How many times have we "liked" or "cared" someone's social media post?  We beat ourselves up for not doing enough big stuff, without recognizing all the little things we do every day to make the world better in just that moment, for just that one person.  And maybe that's the challenge:  instead of feeling we've failed because we didn't do something earth-shattering today, let's make it our goal to do more of the little things.  Appreciating and creating beauty.  Sharing the positive.  Letting people know how we feel about them.  Tipping an extra dollar.  Picking up a piece of litter in your path.  Doing the thing that no one else wants to do.  There are, what, eight billion people on the earth?  If each of us did one thing that makes the world better every day, and each one of those things takes only 5 seconds, that's 667 MILLION minutes of doing good.  Making a positive difference.  Bringing light into the darkness.  We can lament the state of the world, or we can spend that time improving it.  

Today, I'm playing piano at church, working on Van Gogh's Starry Night in cross stitch (which I hope will bring someone joy as it hangs on the wall someday), and spending time with my family.  If 5 seconds of any of that time makes someone else's life, day, minute, or second better, it will have been a successful 55 Eve.  Have a lovely day, my faithful reader.  You are beautiful.  You are loved.  The world is a better place with you in it.