So, I’m 51. As of yesterday, in fact. I had written an unrelated, non-birthday post for this week (a meandering that started with the word infidelity), but it all went out the window when my dear friend, Jill, sent me a celebratory text yesterday morning that ended with the imperative Wish Big! I welled up for a few seconds, taking in those two tiny words that held such beautiful, unencumbered...
There’s so much noise around turning 50. Does one deny being a half-century old? Embrace the achievement? Fight like the devil to turn back the clock? Without question, this age instigates a new chapter with bigger stakes and a growing sense of urgency. Given our youth-obsessed culture and my own compulsion to stay young, I wondered how honestly I could write about this milestone. Fifty on Fifty is my experiment.
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