Decades

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?