on being the answer to life the universe and everything…

A couple of months ago I woke up and realized that, despite the learnings of my youth, turning 42 was not in fact the answer to life the universe and everything. Mostly because in order to be the answer there must be the question. I’m not a question so much as I am a work in progress.

So 42 is not an answer so much as it is a mile marker on the road to Cami.

March, my birthday month, is always a busy time. It’s not just my birth month but also my daughter’s and my mother’s. This year in addition to things like the joyous celebrations of life it came with several events, international women’s day, and other moments. Darker moments that we’re just not going to dive into. Because March was a murky emotional and mental obstacle course. The kind with a 100 foot drop into an abyss filled with stony spikes instead of the safe testing ground type where we might fall 12 feet but into a foam pit from which we could bounce up giggling and shout “I want to go again!”

I’d ask if I’m coming off as morose, but it would be more me making sure you’re understanding the gravity of things not me asking if you think I’m being over-dramatic.

So dark times. All hands on deck. Wear your helmets and pads and life vests. Batten down the hatches because a storm is coming.

My birthday held pockets of respite. Moments of joy. I was so thankful to my tiny village of life-giving people. My beautiful friends. My strong daughter. My dauntless partner. My cranky old cats.

And there were moments of calm. Calm enough to make me ask if it was the calm before the storm or if we were in the eye of it.

And then the weather passed and we were left, I think, not too worse for wear.

Two months later having survived well enough to write about the month in an incredibly dramatic fashion I see that it was a fitting start to my 42nd year of life. An introduction to some new strengths. A reveal of some of my weaknesses. And a glimpse into what it is that my life, my universe, and my everything consist of.

I have a lot of work to do in this life. I feel there’s a lot for me to make right in the world. Not because of wrongs I’ve done, but because of things I see that I can make better. For the first time in my recent remembering there are things I’m thirsting to learn and grow with. 42 doesn’t feel sedentary, it feels like a time to stretch my arms and legs as far and as wide as I can just to feel that satisfying crackle in my back and see what I can reach while I’m at it.

So 42 is a work in progress but so am I…

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