A Grey Anatomy

When I turned 30-years-old every birthday became less of a ritual and more of a period of self reflection and an opportunity for me to create all sorts of wish lists.

1. Find the perfect man to marry and have kids.
2. Find the perfect home preferably near the water in a beach house.
3. Win the lottery and forget about points 1 & 2.

But, as the years quickly passed and I got closer to turning 40, I realized that points 1,2, and 3 might not become a reality. Therefore, the only thing I had to look forward to was the art of ageing gracefully. Until suddenly, grace was interrupted when out of nowhere stood a grey hair. The long, black hair that I had grown accustomed to would be forever tainted by this monstrous beast. No wig, no weave, no nothing would be able to hide it and now my life was completely over. I would be invaded by a single, silver strand who became known to me as "the intruder." Much like the aunt or uncle who showed up drunk on Christmas or the dreaded coworker I least expected to show up to the corporate dinner. They just didn't belong there! And just like these annoying people in our lives so was my grey hair. Yet eventually, I had to come to terms with the fact that this was something that came along with the ageing process and I would need to embrace it. However, I wanted no parts of it! Having grey hair meant that I would be treated differently when I went to the mall or shopped for groceries. Men and women would now refer to me as "Mame" instead of Ms. Roy. No longer would I be able to enjoy passing for the girl in her twenties, I was getting old and this was going to take some getting use to. I could no longer wear the short skirts and tiny t-shirts anymore without being ridiculed by the packs of women wolves at nightclubs. Now, I was a fully grown woman who had to give up all of those things and accept whatever life had to offer. I was entering into a new beginning, my dew season and life was about to become pretty darn special.

Cruising and Losing

Easy come....easy go...at least that's what I told myself when I arrived home from a 7-day cruise to the Caribbean last week. I had just celebrated my sister's 50th birthday and was already thinking about what to do next. I hated the fact that I had to give up the "stuff my face" sessions of eating, hated the fact that I no longer had the ocean in my backyard...hated the fact that there was no one else left to serve me, hated the fact that there were no more island men to look at and last but not least..I hated the fact that I had to go back to work and face business as usual. My lovely, rest-filled vacation was now a memory that turned into a nightmare fast when I rear ended a driver while leaving work one night and broke my wrist. Like I said earlier easy come...easy go....my days of no longer having a care in the world or having to do anything for myself like lift a fork or a spoon were gone...I went from being the high roller to a disabled veteran of fun in just a few days. Never again will I look at someone with a disability the same way. Yet, my small inconveniences are nothing compared to what handicap people face everyday. Not being able to wear a coat that fits, or take a shower( I still wash really well, don't be fooled), grocery shop, drive my car without using my left hand or email friends as often as I use to has shown me just how blessed I've been all these years. I think about how easy it's been for me to take small things for granted. And then I realize that I really can make do with little or less. Everything depends on my attitude and I'm choosing to say yes. Especially to all the positive things, the fact that I'm alive, the fact that it could have been worse and the fact that I am able to still smile even when I don't feel like it. I also realized that having more does not make me rich and that I really can manage without all the extra things....I am blessed by just being here....and dewing just fine.