It is a new year. Snow is falling again, outside my window. I am at the peak of middle age, and my youngest son, the only one still at home, number four, is ten and a half years old. This is a critical moment in my life, a time when everything as I’ve known it is about to change. I’ve hung on for a long time to what I’ve known, but now I have to let go and prepare for change. I guess this is a true mid-life crisis. Up until now I’ve been young with the feelings and attitudes that young people have. I’m still kind of young, but not for much longer. How do I judge this? Guys are still attracted to me, even ones much younger than me. I guess that’s how I judge it. Instead of, “Whose grandma are you?” many of them still spark when they see me. Isn’t that how we judge these things in our society? But someday in the not so distant future, I think that spark will not be so frequent.
Part of the change is the task of letting go of the reproductive part of my life. (which in our society means letting go of life itself, because after all, what good are you if you are no longer sexually attractive, especially if you are a woman?) I strive to learn that I will be just as valuable, and hopefully more so, when those men no longer spark at seeing me. I must let go of my last child and know that there will be no more babies in this lifetime. These things are only part of the metamorphosis I am beginning. But they are signature landmarks on the path I travel.