No - not pages written,
It's a good day.
I love life.
Yeah, I'm one of those
Not for the reasons you might think.
Not because life is easy or
Things always go as I planned. No.
I've had my share of
But I've believed for a long time
Life is beautiful
Easy or hard-
Life is a gift.
I am the age
My older brother
Never got to be.
It's hard to care about smile lines
Or grey hairs when I remember him.
Years take on new meanings
when they are etched on gravestones.
If he were so young when he died,
How can I be getting old?
I'm aware my
Is a bit unconventional
In our culture of
Perpetually young everything
And maybe some of my readers are shielding their eyes
Cringing for me - did she really put her age on the page?
Yes. I refuse to dread my birthdays,
Or even pretend I'm not really grateful to have another one.
Here's to watermelon and corn on the cob.
Summer nights and star filled skies.
Moving the furniture and turning up the dance music.
And on hard, hard days
Here's to the kind of peace that only comes from prayer
And singing hymns to soothe a broken heart
And knowing life is a beautiful gift.