Amiably lingering somewhere in the middle

I’ve reached a somewhat peculiar point in life, perhaps a precipice, I’mnot sure. I am no longer college age, although it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for someone my age to go back. I am no longer a newlywed, although many my age are still getting married, or remarried. I am no longer a new mom, although these days it’s not unheard of for women my age to be.

So what am I?

I have seen, heard, read and understand much about the workings of this modern world, though I’m far from having all the answers. I’ve been married a decade longer than my parents first go around and eons longer than the majority of celebrities, though I’m not routinely recognized for having a lastingmarriage. I could technically become a grandmother at this age, though I’m not considered old enough to carry the wisdom of generations.

So where do I stand?

Amiably lingering somewhere in the middle. Just plugging along.

I was one of those teenagers who couldn’t wait to begin adulting. Often told I was 15 going on 35, I still don’t understand the concept of feeling forever 17. I wanted to be old enough to be taken seriously, to be respected and revered for my contributions to society, I never wanted to be 17.

I couldn’t even be bothered with the opportunity to take an all expenses paid trip to college. I was so focused onmaking a place for myself in this world I decided to climb the career ladder while taking night classes, surrendering the task of earning the degree once my vocational goal was reached. I was 19, an “adult” proudly paving my own way.

My 20s were filled with tireless striving and major life events. There were incredibly beautiful moments in the mix, but proving myself worthy of the vision of adulthood I had conjured in my teens was the animating spirit. Married at 20, first (& only) brand new car purchase at 21, pregnant with Baby #1 at 22 followed by home ownership at 23, miscarriage at 24, rainbow baby at 25, passionate career shift at 26, depression at 27, breakdown at 28, revival and cancer scare turned surprise pregnancy at 29. I plowed through those 20s in a blink.

You may remember the rebirth I described in my very first Voices column back on

Jan 2. That was 30, andmy

30’s have been wonderful. Instead

of struggling to provemyself, I have accepted myself, finding perfection in the progress, choosing to laugh more than lament, to till rather than toil. There have been some bumps in the road, as any well traveled path has, but they keep things interesting, so I let them stay. No need for a bulldozer this decade.

I’m now a few years past that 35 year old I was trying to become at 15. What I wouldn’t give to be able to visit that teenager who covered up her condition with counterfeit confidence. I’d say something to the effect of, “Slow down, you’re only young once” or “It’s more about the journey than the destination.” My younger self would most likely pretend to appreciate the advice, then go on about her business, presumptuously, knowing what’s best (a mindset destined to be replicated by her future first born).

There is only one thing I would tell my 25-year- old self, “Grandma Margaret says their babyhood is just — so — fleeting.” If I heard the guidance came from Grandma Margaret, there is a chance I might’ve actually taken it to heart. And oh, how I wish that could’ve happened. I’d give my right arm to go back and hold those babies again; curious and climbing all over me, crying for my attention and my food, loving and trusting me beyond comprehension… but then I would have one less arm to wrap around them today.

Presently at 38, all things considered, lingering here is pretty great. Plugging along has its perks. It’s that sweet spot where I am able to say “Those were the days …” while at the same time knowing that these days, as strange and stressful as they may be, are the “those days” to come.