by Mary Bradford
Mary Bradford is my guest, a fellow writer and a friend of mine. She penned this amusing piece and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. – ML
It is the coming. It is the going. It is the celebrations. It is the condolences. It is the noise. It is the silence. It is my life.
I turn fifty, this year, the month, April. I have been both blessed and broken-hearted. I have endured much and been endured by many. This is a magic age. It is the age when I finally conceded to life and accept that I am a grown up.
But a grown up with a difference. I am now free to be me. I can come and go, celebrate and commiserate, make noise or remain silent. I have a wisdom that others this age ignore or older slide by.
What my Creator has asked of me, I have answered. Now I ask of Him to allow me enjoy what I have brought to this world through my family. I have acceptance. I have trust in Him. My children reared are now free to follow their chosen paths; it shall be their journeys not mine.
I am feeling mixed emotions with each passing day. No longer running to the beat of others I start my mornings my way. What a joke! Family phones and I drop all to taxi them to their destinations. My wishes pushed aside until I can deal with them later in the day. Is it part of being Irish, an Irish Catholic that you do not say no to parents? Honor thy father and thy mother.
My weekends are filled with my children returning with washing and yet more taxi requests to friend’s houses. Why do I feel guilty if I try to pawn them off with a takeaway dinner instead of a home cooked hearty meal? Is it part of being Irish, an Irish mother? Do they not know the fourth commandment like I do? Is that my fault if they don’t?
So am I any closer to being the free person I expected to be when hitting fifty? Questions by the gallon, yet the answers would only fill a postcard. Being fifty means I have crossed the threshold to senior citizen country, well so the life insurance ads on TV shout out. Plus the wonderful discounts on golden age holidays, over fifties of course. But my weekdays are filled with parents and siblings and my weekends are filled with my children so where is the free time I dreamt of.
Yet turning fifty is a blessing. My childhood was happy. My twenties were marriage and giving birth to four healthy children. My thirties were rearing my family and supporting my husband. My forties were illness and my open heart surgery. My fifties I pray will be as good. I am the mistress of my own destiny. It shall be whatever I want it to be with Oscar my Guardian Angel watching over me.
Bring it on and let me take the rough with the smooth, see you when I’m sixty, God willing.
About Mary Bradford: I have been writing for a number of years now and have enjoyed publishing success. Any spare time is spent either crocheting/writing/ reading/an odd vodka or two and helping out, but not necessarily in that order! All my children have left home so I am waiting patiently to hear the patter of my future grandchildren’s feet. You can find out more at www.marytbradford-author.blogspot.com and on Twitter/Facebook.