Hippo Birdie

Well, I'm 50. Hard to believe, when I still feel 17 and still act 7. My body says some days that it thinks I'm closer to 70.

I grieved this day for about 30 seconds.  My post last year was rather flippant.  But all in all, isn't it silly not to embrace where you're at in life?  It's not like I can change how long I've been alive, after all. Perhaps I could try to hack a few computers to adjust the records, but really, as Elisabeth Elliot says, "In acceptance lies peace."

December 21.  The "winter solstice" - etymology is something more like "sun stand still in winter."  What a nice thought... the sun stood still on the day I was born. Midwinter. Longest night. Do you suppose that the reason I'm such a night owl is because I was born on the longest night of the year?  Sounds like a reasonable theory, don't you think?  The occasion is celebrated in some cultures by a festival of lights. That is quite apt, as my middle name is Elaine which means "shining light." My first name, of course means "joy" and was one of the most popular names in the '30s.  It's now dropped to below 800 in the list.  :-)  That must mean I'm special. What a description to live up to:  "the joyful shining light born on the day the sun stood still."

 

Well, my new friend has given me permission to post her original poem that inspired my previous post. Here it is.  Happy birthday indeed. 

The Candle Dance

Five thousand,  two hundred
and twenty-five minutes have disappeared.

Soon,  
like old socks
another body part will struggle
to stay  up.

The candle-dance
seems slightly  arthritic;
the oft-repeated song
hackneyed.

A struggle,  
it seems,
to heave
a breath to blow
more wishes to the  wind.

Perhaps this year I'll learn to count,
not old socks or broken  dreams
but matches struck in the dark.

-Anna Brown