Another Year Gone

It's crazy how quickly time seems to pass. I remember as a kid, marking the days between birthdays and Christmases that seemed to go on and on and on just to annoy me. Each day seemed like a lifetime, each year an eternity. Any more, it's hard to see the days, let alone the years as they fly by. I don't mark time by holidays anymore. I mark time by the size of my kids' pants and the length of their hair, the piles of laundry, and the stains in the carpet. Birthdays roll around, and where once there were parties and excitement, there's a quiet nod and a wave as another year ends and a new one begins.
I don't hate my birthday. I don't hate getting older. In fact, since I was very little, very young, I can remember being excited to get older, loving the idea that the older I got, the more I could do. I hate the idea of getting old. I hate the idea of getting out of touch, and rusty, and crusty, and just out of sync with the world. I hate the idea of becoming soft-bodied and hard-hearted. I know it doesn't have to be that way, but I've seen what happens to the women in my family as they age. There are two roads, one leads to crazy and the other to crabby. Neither appeals to me. In fact, they both frighten me immensely. So, although I've only just begun my 31st year, I've decided to lay the foundation for a new road. I don't know where it leads, but I know it isn't where the others have gone. And when I'm ready to walk down it, I'm sure I'll be rockin' my tiara, my pin-stripped pants, and heels, or chucks if I decide to pave it in cupcake shaped cobblestone just for kicks.
And to those of you who've traveled down the road that has led me through this year, thank you. You make this journey rich with love and laughter. I can only hope that you continue to travel with me, paving as we go, so that I might have a chance to repay you.