Today I turned 51. Holy cow; I’m on the downside of a century. How did that happen?
But when I really think about it, today there was a profound difference. Even though the number seems hard to comprehend, I didn’t mind it a bit. Not a whit. No scintilla of concern about aging. Nada, as my high school Spanish teacher used to say.
The last 50 years, even when I feigned excitement, there was this teeny tiny bit of chagrin about growing older. Truth: sometimes it was a lot of chagrin, often like CHAGRIN (yep, I remember 30 well).
But not any more.
And there was something else. I was bestowed with some waiting-around time today that allowed me to consider what used to matter to me and what doesn’t freaking matter a bit, anymore.
My 25 Things (that truly don’t matter) List
1. the asshole who cut me off
2. likewise, the grampy moving at a snail’s pace ahead of me
3. rain creating bad-hair days
4. missing the elevator
5. hair color, eye color, skin color
6. the “right” vehicle
7. the “right” home
8. perfectly-behaved children
9. poochy bellies
10. being handed coffee instead of tea at the Tim Horton’s drive-thru
11. piles of laundry
12. a dirty sink
14. not having a husband
15. not having a dad
16. people who don’t hold the door when they know I’m behind them
17. thighs: mine, not yours
18. legos underfoot
19. eye rolls
20. pubescent attitudes: theirs, not mine
21. generalizations about single moms
22. fire and brimstone
23. running late
24. the imperfect downward facing dog
25. cell phone batteries
Are these unimportant? No, not quite. Some – even many – remain important. . . but do they matter? Like in 10 years, will they matter? The answer for me is no, they won’t.
How do I know this for sure? Well, I just think about not being here, not being earthside, and ask myself “would I care about this in the final analysis?” And the answer for me is a quietly confident “no, not a bit.”
What about you? What would you include on your list?