You’ve arrived at a significant moment in your life. Your friends say you have it all—a loving partner (25 years and counting!), two wonderful kids, a cozy home filled with laughter, loyal friends nearby and across the miles, and a furry rescue pup who adores you. You’ve got it all, and deep down, you know it. You express gratitude to the universe, your guardian angel, or any deity you might believe in. “Thank you,” you quietly say. “Thank you.”
As the years rush by, the well-worn phrases emerge: “Time flies,” “This year will be over before you know it,” and “How is it already summer? It feels like just yesterday there was snow.” You catch a fleeting reflection of yourself in a shop window and, for a brief moment, mistake it for your mother’s image—an unsettling reminder, as she has been gone for eight years. The thought lingers. You decide to change your hair color and purchase a new dress. You’re content with your age, but why do you resemble your mother?
Scrolling through social media, you see posts from peers, some even younger, facing life’s harsh realities: sudden heart attacks, reoccurring cancer, unexpected divorces. You read about their journeys of resilience and hope, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for your own circumstances. “Please, not me. Not us,” you murmur, grappling with a twinge of guilt. Why are you the fortunate one?
You feel enveloped in a protective bubble. Nothing significantly bad has happened to you—well, except for that brush with pneumonia that escalated to sepsis earlier this year. Where did that come from? The doctors are baffled. You consider yourself lucky for surviving, yet you ponder whether you should feel strong for overcoming it or weak for having fallen ill in the first place. The answer remains elusive. You celebrate another birthday, treating yourself to that second slice of cake. You’ve earned it. After all, you survived a near-death experience. The gift is life, now viewed through a lens of heightened awareness. You can’t help but think, “There but for the grace of whatever higher power out there, go I.”
Days and years start to blur together. You occasionally forget what year it is or even the day of the week. Conversations with friends about shared past experiences leave you puzzled, as you can’t quite recall the details. Their stories fill the gaps in your memory, but you’ll never know if their recounting is genuine or if your version has slipped away, swallowed by the demands of life. “Baby brain” was the term used during pregnancy, but no one warned you it would stick around indefinitely.
Soon, you’ll be turning 50. Not next year, but not far off either. That milestone looms ahead—once a marker of old age, a time when life felt like it was set in stone rather than flowing like a river. Stability is comforting, you tell yourself. Predictability is desirable. Happiness, health, financial security, and a measure of success—these are all good things. Yet, there’s a restless spirit within you, a desire to unleash a primal scream—not from anger or sadness, but simply to let go and embrace your wild side.
You recall reading Wild by Cheryl Strayed. While you may be past the age she was during her journey, you understand the yearning for something more. You may not have hiked a single trail, yet you express your quest through writing. No exotic trips for you—just the power of words. You attempt to capture the essence of this fleeting moment known as life, reminiscent of the line from your favorite ’80s film, St. Elmo’s Fire: “We’re all going through this,” Rob Lowe tells Demi Moore. Despite being able to play the role of those characters’ mother now, you still feel on the brink of something significant.
Here and now, this is your reality. You strive to remember every detail, yet you know that by this time next year, today will blend into the tapestry of memories. And while most days are good, the threads of your experiences will weave into the larger fabric of your life. You’ll write it all down, hoping to revisit these moments later, questioning, “Who is this person?” years down the line. Yet deep down, you recognize her. The wildness still pulses within you; you’re still on the edge. It remains your time.
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Summary
As you approach your 50th birthday, you reflect on your life filled with love, career success, and the inevitable passage of time. Despite moments of gratitude, you grapple with existential questions, cherished memories, and the desire for a bit of wildness in your life. Ultimately, you realize that this milestone is not an end but a new beginning, and you’re ready to embrace it fully.