Another birthday has just rolled around. They seem to be coming more often now. I don't look forward to them like I did as a kid, but I think I appreciate them more. I remember when I couldn't wait to get older. I wanted to be twelve or thirteen, sixteen, eighteen, twenty-one. There was always an age to aspire to. Now, I'm in no such hurry to get older. Older is what my parents were - not me!
Sixty -one has always sounded older to me. Grey hair cut short, a grey Oldsmobile, sensible shoes, conservative values and a touch of dismay over the younger generation. But that's not me. I keep my hair dark and shoulder length...with just a splash of silver bangs and have never driven an Oldsmobile of any color. My values, far from conservative, include choice, gay marriage and tolerance and I envy the younger generation in some ways. I do wear sensible shoes though - no fun having ones feet hurt! So what does sixty-one really look like?
This time last year I was in Spain. Took a marvelous ten day trip with my then boyfriend. My first across an ocean. We explored Spain and took a quick hop to Africa, spending a day in Tangier, Morocco. It was fun, exciting and exhilerating; I revelled in the different cultures and turning sixty slipped by almost unnoticed - which was my plan!
This year there was no milestone, just a simple transition from sixty to sixty-one. Rather than jumping continents, I traveled only a few counties away and celebrated with the new man in my life. We had a lovely dinner out and watched a classic - Gone With the Wind. I hope to spend my next birthday with him too.
