Dear Dad,
Did I ever say thanks
for the toys you mended,,
for the games we played,
for all the songs we sang together,
for teaching me to play guitar,
for teaching me that lyrics are poems?
Did I ever say thanks
for the way you always
made a joke to cheer me up
when I was feeling down?
Did I ever say thanks
for the sacrifices you made
so that I could have and experience
things in life that you didn't?
What about the sacrifies that you made
for our country, our liberties and our beliefs?
Did I ever say thank you for that?
Did I ever tell you that I am beyond proud
of being a soldier's daughter?
Did I ever say thanks
to you for working so hard
to provide for your family?
Did I ever say thanks
for 'getting' me,
for appreciating my humor
for knowing what I was thinking
when I gave you that mischievious 'look'?
More importantly...
Did I ever say thanks
for the faith you have in me,
for always being there
when I needed you?
Did I ever say thanks
for always being proud of me
when I excelled...
And for helping me up
when I fell down?
Did I ever say thanks
for never passing judgment on me,
for accepting me exactly how I am?
Most of all,
Did I ever say thanks
for caring,
for being you,
for always doing the best you could?
Thank you, Dad.
Today I am 14,609 days old. Tomorrow I turn 40 year old. As I sit here, I contemplate the concept that today is my last day of my 30s before I leap into the next decade of life. On the one hand, this transition feels non-eventful and a part of me wants to rage against the expectation that I should be feeling or doing something EVENTFUL. I have to wonder if birthdays are constructed to encourage people to go over the top so that we don't sit in wonder about the last year has taught us. But on the other hand, I know that if I don’t acknowledge this in a way that feels meaningful to me, I’ll regret it. Either way, tomorrow I turn 40 and I need to process that in a way that makes sense to me.
Afterall, this is my last day in the decade of my 30′s.I used to think 40 was really old.. In some ways, I don’t feel much older than I did when I was in my twenties. I mean, mentally I do and I have a more comfortable feeling now. Certainly in the last year my body has reminded me I’m not twenty any more. But me, myself, my soul... doesn’t feel old. Being the overly analytical and introspective type, nonetheless, this landmark birthday does make me think. What does it mean to turn 40? What does it mean to move into this new decade? I didn’t want to let this one go by without at least considering what it all means. What is the expectation of me? What is my expectation of it?
In the last 39 years, I have learned that life is beautiful, it comes with a variety of experiences that over time define who we are. I am not perfect, and never will be. But I am okay with that. I know who I am and, more importantly, I really love myself. Perhaps that is the best gift one can give themselves and it is even BIGGER than a tangible celebration.
At twenty years of age, the will reigns; at thirty the wit; at forty the judgment. ~ Benjamin Franklin
