Why is it that certain milestones cannot be ignored? |
Prompt for: April 15, 2016 (Ren) Subject or Theme: Birthdays! (Today is mine) Write about any memorable birthday; it can be for you or someone else. Word(s) to Include: forbidden, (include the age you were in your poem) (or any derivatives of these words) Forbidden Word(s): balloons, birthday, cake, celebration, party (or any derivatives, compound or hyphenations of these words) Additional Parameters: 24 lines minimum Remember, do not use forbidden words ANYWHERE, including title or the brief description. Milestone It was forbidden! (At least in my mind, it was.) No fuss, no black streamers. I wanted to let the dreaded fiftieth go by unremarked, unnoticed. Whispered conversations cut short alerted me to possibilities that the 'me-glare' didn't dispel. In the weeks before that occasion, I discovered I needed new glasses, (Thank goodness for invisible bifocal lines) that my left shoulder ached, that my right knee decided it didn't like the basement stairs, that the oldest granddaughter was pregnant and that afternoon naps were sublimely glorious. I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw my mother looking back at me. How could this be? In my mind, I felt no different. When did I get old? It's just a number, isn't it? No, the days of indestructability have passed, immortality went back to being a fairy tale. My husband snored his way through the dark hours, rising with suppressed energy, bringing me coffee in a new mug with an owl sitting on a gnarled branch. He fixed me breakfast, but never said a word, offered up no felicitations. My daughter called complaining about her boss, the cats who'd torn apart her living room, her computer that had died midst a major presentation and wanted to know if she could borrow my favorite hoodie. We scrounged for dinner, watched the ball game (my team lost!) and spent mindless hours on our computers, side by side, each playing our games; a usual evening. Four hundred and seventeen Facebook friends (of whom I truly know perhaps twenty) wished me well. I got my wish: no fuss, no bother. No black confections, no goofy presents, no being the center of attention. I lay in bed that night thinking about half-century marks as I rubbed my shoulder, thinking about earned badges of honor showing in grey hair, wrinkles and laugh lines, thinking about the fact that perhaps I'd made a mistake. I was feeling strangely disappointed in getting what I'd asked for. Funny, how we are never too old to learn something new. |