I can’t seem to sleep lately. When I finally crawl into bed after shutting down the house, flossing my teeth, and setting two alarms (one for 5:20 the other for 5:30, somehow convinced that the 10-minute respite softens the blow), my brain turns on, indifferent to the 18-hour day we just clocked. Head in pillow, duvet tucked around my neck, I stare into the black thinking about death. Death. Inevitable,...
Lately, I’ve noticed that life has become rather predictable. I start my day with the same routine: wake at 5:30, make coffee, unload the dishwasher, feed the dog, assemble lunches (despite quitting this job each and every day), yell at my kids for ignoring their alarms, pull out breakfast options, make a smoothie, yell at my kids for yelling at each other, race to dress (no shower), shoo everyone into...
I lost a friend of almost 30 years just a few weeks ago. She suffered from Crohn’s disease her entire adult life, and cancer these last seven years. She was a fighter in all respects, and one of those people who told doctors just how things were going to go down. When hospitalized 18 months ago from a complication we all thought would end her life, she repeatedly told her...
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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