I was sitting around this evening, knitting and thinking. I started to think of the decades of my life and wondering what, if anything I could remember. So, here goes:
Age 10, my first decade. I had a birthday party and a cake with plastic horses around it. I wore a tight pony tail and had bangs. I was very blond. I have pictures somewhere of the cake with the candles burning. I'm sure my mom baked the cake
Twenty years old. I had been married for almost 2 years. It was 1974. I think I had dropped out of college by then so I could work full time. I worked for Singer Company. I sold sewing machines and I drove a van with the Singer logo on the side. I went to people's homes to repair their sewing machines. I also delivered sewing machines. I was married. Yeah I already said it. But I was. To Nick, who seemed so old. He was 26!
In 1984, I was pregnant with my third child, Darcy. We were studying Norwegian at FSI (the Foreign Service Institute) when it was in Rosslyn, VA. I remember, in class we all drank a toast to me and my birthday because decade birthdays are important in Norway. Our teacher turned 40 that year, and we drank to her too.
Forty. I was still nursing my youngest. We were here, in Virginia. I was busy being a mom and La Leche League Leader (still am). My best friend was diagnosed with breast cancer and when I went for my first mammogram I was sent away because I was nursing.
My mother died shortly before I turned 50, before I graduated. I graduated from college with a BA in English from George Mason University. My mom was still alive when I got my cap and gown, and I modeled for her. She was so happy and so proud. She bought me a class ring. I wear it every day. It was also my 25th anniversary as a LLL Leader.
Looking forward towards turning 60, I decided that I wanted to be as fit and well as I could. I was working out at the gym, both by taking classes and meeting with a personal trainer. I was there five to six times a week. I was tired a lot. I found out that I had low thyroid. Then, I found out that I have a brain tumor.
And here I am. I had to fill out a form last week and for the first time, I had to put "60" on the place where it asks your age. It didn't bother me so much, it just felt weird. I mean 60? Huh? How did that happen?
I guess that this is how 60 feels. I hope I get to see how 70 feels!
I wonder what I will write about in ten years?