The Broken Road

I’m looking down the barrel of 50.  Far out. When did I get so damned OLD?  Like everyone I guess, in my mind, I’m still 18.  It comes as a bit of shock when I look in the mirror and see those wrinkles and the sagging skin and the greying temples. 

I mean, I don’t expect to see Jessica Biel staring back at me but for goodness sakes, when did I turn into Kathleen Turner?   I'm talking “2011 Kathleen Turner” not “1980 Body Heat Kathleen Turner” by the way….  These days, I'm more Jessica Tandy than Jessica Biel.

As I approach 50, I’m not where I expected to be in my life. 

I don’t live in the house I dreamed I would.

I’m not happily married to the man I wanted to be. OK, "happily" would be an understatement.

I don’t have all the things I expected to by this age.  I don’t even own a washing machine
(that's a long story – I used to!)

What I do have though is a beautiful child who would not have come to me by any means other than the means by which she came.  Somehow, as I travelled along this twisted, broken road, making all manner of mistakes and misjudgements, I managed to find my way to her, and she to me.

I thank God every day for the blessing that she is.  The things I don’t have and the unfulfilled dreams pale into insignificance as I watch her sleeping soundly tonight.