To My Body, With Gratitude

My dearest round little body,

You are my greatest friend and ally.

My feet who continue to support my increasing berth.

My legs who continue to push me when sleeping has been fitful, on a redeye flight, or interrupted by bloodcurdling screams from the hotel room next door.

My hands that type endlessly, drive rental cars at midnight, gesture with clarity to let people know where they stand with me and then still have the energy to sign my name over, and over, and over again.

My eyes that continue to see far, that without support of any kind, allow me to see the majestic mountains in the morning, the 10,000 foot view of farm fields from an airplane, my beautiful children's faces, and wondrous sunsets.

My stomach, that goes hours without any fuel and then fills up too quickly with ill-timed meals that are not quite right.

My mind that energizes me with funny things to think, surgically takes apart all conversation around me and then processes my thoughts in such familiar ways.

My mouth that generates words that execute all that I want to say and in exactly the way that will reflect who I am perfectly.

My heart that beats with steady perfection and continues to fill me with a feeling of warmth and love for   the people of my world.

I am sorry that I let you fall in that parking lot, that in my distracted and tired state of mind, I allowed you to slam to the ground in such an ungraceful way and leave an asphalt mark in too many little places.  I am sorry for the high heels, I am sorry for the cell phone in my face, and I am most of all sorry that I gave you no attention in any way over the last week.  I know, I owe you.

But you have beautifully managed a recovery and reminded me that with you I am nothing. Please, let me have just a few more decades with you and let me remember to treat you with more kindness and caring because in spite of all of the other relationships I have in this world, you are truly the one who has been the most there for me.

Maturity Hits

I now know why people refer to this age as "middle-aged."  Sure, people live longer and middle age is more like mid 40s, but I have hit middle age, I am certain of it.  My evidence:

• Making fun of people seems mean and not fun.  I wish I could go back, but it is forever gone.
• I feel fine with my weight and body.  WHAT??  This is wrong.  I care about my health, but I just don't care if I look skinnier anymore. This disturbs me.
• I don't want to eat anything packaged.  It seems like poison and gross.   This is particularly tragic considering that is 90% of what I can eat on the road and buy in grocery stores.
• In July at our annual conference there was exactly ONE opportunity to go out dancing with my co-workers at the dueling piano bar.  I have done this several years and loved it.  But this year?  I just went to bed instead.  I even got a text at midnight asking "where the @#$% are you?"  and I just rolled over and went back to sleep.  
• I stopped texting and driving because I believe I can actually die now.  
• I stopped speeding (though I might just be on hiatus for 1 more year until my record clears from the last violation)
• I now seek opportunities to hang out with nuns. 
• 6 hours and 19 minutes of sleep used to buy me extraordinary energy.  Now I need about 6 hrs 30.  Lame.
• I read news.