Sunday Sundries: Turning...40 tomorrow?

How did that happen?

Hi folks! Welcome back to Sunday Sundries on Inklings, where I talk about whatever comes to mind.

Today? My birthday.

I don’t usually spend that much time thinking about age and birthdays. My linear age bears little resemblance to my physical and mental ages. My body feels about 80, and my brain goes between about 12 and 140.

But 40. This is a strange number. I could just about work out how I made it to 30, and I celebrated.

And I’ve had the last decade to figure out being 40. But it’s like some mythical island, barely glimpsed in the fogs, shimmering and distant, and not really real.

But here I am, hours away, and I genuinely have no idea how I got here. It’s like no part of me expected to actually get this far, so I never bothered to consider it.

It’s just another day. 40 years since I made it into this world means very little to anyone but me and a select few. But it’s a line I never thought I’d reach.

It just never occurred to me that I’d survive this long.

Looooooooove

But fuck me, here I am, right on the precipice. And I’m surrounded by love, romantic and platonic. So much of it. Another thing I never expected.

So how do I plan to celebrate?

Tomorrow Cuddles and I—depending on how I feel—will go someplace for food, or order it in, and have a nice quiet night.

People have contributed to a pot so we could get a couple of fun experiences—we’re gonna do a cocktail making masterclass, and a spa break with afternoon tea. We’re going to buy those today, then book one hopefully for later this month, and then maybe June or July (and I kinda want to opt for July, so it’s also a Cuddles’ birthday present).

So what do I do when I want to reconcile things in my brain? I write about them, of course. That’s mostly what this is. But as you’re very kindly here reading, may I also offer you a couple of new poems I wrote? It’s so special, you’re even getting me on video! Enjoy (and scroll down through the words to the first one, so you can see the second one).

Don’t forget to subscribe and share, and I’ll see you next time!

Smooth No More

Reaching, pursing, creasing, stroking
Taking note of all the places
Pitted and cratered,
Stretched and scarred
The marble that once held me
That I was once carved from
Aged and weathered
The strong stone cracking
Dropping dust and chips
At my feet.

The things I can't see
The parts that stopped working
But remain
In pain
Telling me what I once was
What I am no more.

The smoothness of that chiseled stone
The statue of self that I cherished
Is long gone
Instead there is just me
As I am.
Aging up
Gaining new scars and tears every year
New stories and new loves
New smiles and new grief.

I love that the lines on my face
Speak of laughter more than tears.
I love the scars that I made
Their beauty bearing the battles
That kept me alive.
The scars from a hundred forgotten moments
And the incisions from when I broke myself
And needed repair.
Skilled surgical strikes,
Fixing bone back in place
When I broke the inside instead.
The stretches in my skin
As my body got bigger
And my statue had to grow.

My eyes,
Still their changeable blue.
My mouth,
Bottom heavy and prone to smirking.
My arms
Scarred and tattooed
Every one a story of me.
My hair
As it slowly departs
With an apologetic, downcast smile

My beard
So right for me, now it's here.
Something I didn't know I needed
Until it grew.
A thing to play with
To appreciate
To care for when all my other routines
Fail.

Every piece of me
Changed by my movement through the world
And yet the same as ever.

Wait…what?

How in the fuck am I 40?
I never thought I'd get this far
Never even pictured the number
Not even as abstract.
But it's here
I'm here
It was waiting for me all this time.
The Me that passes this threshold
Steps into a time I never imagined
I'd see.