Transitions

A milestone. Last August I turned sixty-six. This number sounds so meaningless to me because I'm unable to relate to anything that's usually associated with this age. It's like a total stranger knocking on my door, challenging my sense of logic. Then I realized that perhaps I am emotionally stuck in my forties, my favorite phase of life. Or maybe my hobbies mislead me to believe that I'm only in my forties now since I still do (almost) every activity that I had enjoyed all those years. I dance, sing, and laugh boisterously, even giggle like a teen with my millennial friends. Sometimes, aches and pains awaken my senses to the truth about physical ageing. I see fine wrinkles developing in some parts of my face. Gray strands are peeking from under my brown hair. All these revelations make me reflect on the number of years that are possibly remaining in my life. I suddenly murmur my constant prayer - to live long and healthy so I can enjoy the presence of my family and my work as an artist. I've waited a lifetime to reach this dream. This is my new reality. After years of taking everything life has thrown at me, I've been searching for that which could make me perfectly whole. Now, I'm  finally able to live as the person I always wanted to be. Emotional compromises are suddenly gone. The world seems to be changing before my eyes but maybe I'm the one who does. The spectacles through which I see life have clearer, more powerful lenses   that can accommodate the vision of my soul. I've come a long way from a petite single woman, all dressed up in her little black dress for a night of dancing, to the woman quietly sitting alone in a garden with her cup of coffee and a laptop. Weekends are no longer spent rushing to get the perfect seating at a salsa club, rather on a day looking forward to a relaxing movie night with my husband. Or an afternoon spent alone buried in the world of books, to catch up on sharing the most profound thoughts on philosophy. These days,  I do only the things that give me joy. I am blessed with time and space to do just that. And that, in and of itself, is a miracle.

Transitions can be shrouded in uncertainty and fear. But through the years, I've learned to welcome them despite my fear of the unknown. I set my mind and heart to focus only on today, one day, one step, one intention at a time.