Midlife

I think it’s safe to say that it usually starts somewhere around 40, 45. I am 54. I doubt highly that I will live to 106. You never know though. Someone, somewhere can come up with a miracle pill or some sort of reverse ageing serum. But for right now, I’m hopeful I’ll reach 85. Barring that I am not struck by a bus at a crosswalk, or shot down by a demented stranger as I stand on line at any post office, or a peace rally.

I am hopeful.

For some women mid-life equals the empty nest; their children have all grown or are growing up, no longer needing them. For some they’re finding themselves single after years of marriage, or partnerships; divorce, death… and/or unexpected separations. For some, like myself, childless – having the painful experience of watching a parent disappear right before their eyes from dementia or Alzheimer’s. My friend Amy calls this “Mama-pause.” And for some, it’s the trifecta – the kids are grown, the partners are gone and the parents are slipping away.

So here’s to us: the bold, audacious, strong, gorgeous, talented, and powerful women who are proving that 50 is fabulous and mid-life is no longer a final destination, but an express subway stop. We are not just re-inventing ourselves – we are in fact re-inventing the entire fucking wheel…. and for some, like myself, doing it in the middle of the night.

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