Following along with Lisa Jo over here.
Let’s write, shall we? Without wondering if it’s right or not.
5 minutes on the topic: Older.
I would love to say that this photograph is older than I am. Alas, since that is me in the red pants, I can do no such thing.
We are all older, much older. My father will turn 60 this year and I made it all the way to 35 this summer. The middle of a decade that I thought would be full of growth that brought comfort and contentment.
This year as I officially marked another year older, I decided that my birthday would signal my new year. No more January resolutions that fall apart before MLK day. I will grow older this year with intentions and hopes and a few goals.
I’m old enough to know how precious this little moment was so many years ago. Old enough to know that I can either march forward through my life or lay idle and let the days march past in front of me.
This year I want to be part of the parade—even if the fancy twirler girl uniforms aren’t exactly my style anymore. I want to wear red pants and wear cheesy grins in photos with those people that I love. I want to own my older because I have been present in my days and earned the wisdom that each one brings. I do not want to lose the laughter, the silly quilted jacket, holding hands with sisters in the middle of the sticks, throw your head back and laugh, laughter.