Too Old for This

by Samantha Downing

It’s more like we’ve come to understand that there is no mother-of-the-year award, and if there was, none of us would win it. I think that’s rather healthy of us.

It’s not momentous. There is no giant light bulb that goes off in my head, or a sudden earth-shattering realization. This is a slow, agonizing surrender. I am getting too old, and too weak, to live the life I want.

Time to clean up the mess I’ve made. That might be the real secret to life. Stop trying to clean up everybody else’s mess, and concentrate on your own.

Small things. I’m still working on appreciating the small things. It’s a lifelong endeavor.

Just as I have to lie in mine.