Lordy, lordy
Sally's 40!
Methinks she's sad
But we're glad
Still a cutie
What a beauty
Happy birthday!
Burma Shave
This
intriguing story was shared with the early-morning commuting universe on signs
planted at regular intervals in the grass along Northside Drive, from
Woodward Way to Collier Road. I was a confidently youthful and
certainly immortal 28-year-old, on my way to the ATL airport for a three
day trip. By the time I reached 75 South, I was practically crying
for poor Sally, turning what had to be a horribly dismal forty. Happy
birthday, with my deepest condolences.
About five minutes after that day, I turned 30, the occasion marked with a lovely but slightly awkward surprise celebration, courtesy of a thoughtful and sneaky pal who had swiped my address book and invited every single person in it. I walked into a Peachtree Cafe filled with a dazzling panorama lifted off all the pages, from close friends to a handyman who had once installed a new back door for me. But I didn't bat an eyelash at the number of candles on the cake.
After
that, life was apace with flying and getting married.
Eventually, on two occasions, I was at Piedmont Hospital gazing over
at a bassinet with dim expectations about successfully raising
the tiny occupant. Walking out the hospital door launched a busy life, sweet years, all lightning fast. While the
children's birthdays were always hugely anticipated very, very big deals,
the ever increasing numbers attached to mine passed without any notice at all.
During the time I was busy with all that, somewhere in the background the pages flew off the calendar. One day I dropped my toddlers off at preschool to learn and play, and just a minute later, I did exactly the same--only it was college. And now I have all the time in the world for retroactive birthday contemplation.
So I have found my own little understanding about how life works: we all take turns. This phenomenon is all around, and one doesn't have to look very far to see it. Everyone, everywhere is somewhere traveling along through the chapters of life. While looking at others ahead has always been pretty mystical, looking at those traveling behind sometimes make me wistful.
When I was a brand-new flight attendant, the girls flying Honolulu--the famous Hawaii 5-0--were from a distant universe far, far away and scared me to death. Immortal 28-year-old me driving to work observed a miniature mourning period for poor anonymous Sally turning 40. And, of course, I once believed the time spent raising children would last forever. Clearly, I spent a lot of years being wrong.
My world is filled with adults in all sorts of nebulous ages--along with babies, toddlers, children, teens and their parents, parents like me, parents not like me, and hordes of miscellaneous others thrown in just for fun. Every day offers a new kaleidoscope of people living in the middle of life's great chapters. The funny thing is, I can find myself in the moment with every single one, each serving up something special.
And while I get that I'm not 28, 30, or 40 and ignoring candles on cakes, I still haven't found the gloom that is supposed to meet me here somewhere along this way. During the busy children-filled years in life, there wasn't a tiny second to look around for the doom. And now, where there is an abundance of time available for saying hi to the grim, I just haven't seen it yet.
I hope the birthday candles will continue to remain fairly insignificant, that all the singles, newlyweds, moms, dads, babies, children, teenagers, and the vastly assorted-aged adults who dot my landscape will continue to let me enjoy their chapters in progress. And I hope that the lovely phenomenon of taking turns continues to enrich this life, mystically and--ah, yes--wistfully.
**Extra super rare birthday pic from the olden days**
