No way I could have known this in my twenties when I thought I knew it all. In my thirties I was sure I had an intimate knowledge of life and yet even being a mom didn’t quite cut it. Now, in my forties I am confident I finally am close to embracing the truth but something is telling me I might have a different perspective once I hit my fifties. Truly, life is an amazing adventure of self-discovery and I am an avid pursuer of its all flavors, bitter and sweet, intertwined for the purpose of our eternal amusement.
In my twenties I believed life was about an adventure, passion and an untamed potential I perceived in every living thing. I savored life’s essence dancing my way through the effervescent white nights in Norway when the day would never stop and the sleeplessness was a badge to strive for. I danced barefoot on the floor of a pub with broken glass on the floor to a loud music with the stars in my eyes. I drunk to my delight and let my amber-red hair sway to the rhythm of eternal youth that ran through my veins. I slept on the beach by a bonfire, my body drenched in a sweat, smoke and an aroma of love, My dreams were full of wonder and the life just seemed to be opening like a flower’s bud in the palm of my hand. Each day I woke up feeling happy and ready to just be. I was drunk from the mere possibilities that awaited me.
Thirties came with a baggage of motherhood; a mellow and definitely more subdued type of an experience. I was a life bearer, a giver and a personification of mother goddess. This time the sleepless nights were of a different sort and they didn’t leave me ecstatic, just exhausted. I cut my hair short and I forgot how to dance to the tune of the Universe. My music was that of lullabies and nursery rhymes. The rare moments I could remember who I was were defined by my newly found peace in meditation and writing. In fact, writing was the force and the passion that was a reminiscence of my fiery and wild twenties.
Then came my forties when I found my beauty again. I grew my hair longer and started spinning new dreams. I yearned for a passion and life that would be meaningful. It all came to me in a sudden flash, in a moment I will never forget. It was in a smile, the eternal allure of new love, intoxicating and powerful. At the same time I realized I had a dream. I wanted to be a writer. This dream was so hard to believe in. I would tell myself that it was brazen to think I could even aspire to write because English is not my mother tongue. I would rather give up before I started. Yet, it is beautiful to dream… And so I kept on writing.
I love forties. I definitely find it easier to be just myself and not to give in to what other people think of me. I think most women discover that around this age. Life is too short to live it up to someone else’s expectations. I am only curious what the fifties will bring.