14 to 44

How is it that I can lay (or is it lie??, crap, I should really know the difference) in bed at almost midnight as a 44 year old and still feel 14?

It's a Saturday night, my last 'free' night of the weekend and I am beyond sad that it has come to an end.   Where did my fun time go?   I drank coffee, ran a lot of errands, painted a closet, and did dishes and laundry.    I also ate out with my cute hubby and drank a cocktail.  I should feel okay.

The bed feels good, sheets cool and smooth under me, but my legs can't be still.  They squirm and wiggle and dance and dream.

How is it that at 44, when I have essentially lived a mostly full life, I lay here and still get excited by the same man that sparked me when I was 14?   Don't ever tell this hunk beside me this, but John Taylor of Duran Duran still makes me smile.   When I think about the videos on MTV and his bass playing, I still blush.   Yes, tonight, I may have thought of him a time or two.  I posted a link of his bass playing on my Facebook page.  It is actually really, really good.  He is very talented.   His band is coming to Austin soon and I am beyond excited about that.   He still makes me feel 14 and deep, deep down...that makes me happy.

But, it's more than just that.

Mostly, I try to figure out when I became the grown up.   When did I become the one who made a point to change the oil in the car, put food in the fridge, make sure everyone had clean undies for Monday, and pay the bills?

Again, how did 14 suddenly become 44?    In my mind and heart, I still feel young.  It's only when my body betrays me or I happen to look in the mirror longer than it takes to tuck in  a shirt that I realize I'm not the teenager I once was.

There are lines on my face that give me away.   There are crevices, craters almost, around my eyes that scream..."this girl has laughed...the hearty, raucous laughter of one who appreciates humor and knows how bitingly close to home it hits when it's really good."    Those same creases tell of the time a little girl spent outside in the sun making her own way, her own fun, with whatever she could find.   They tell of tears that gouged out their own lines of sorrow as they suffered through acceptance of difference and the need for change that manifested itself in the ways of divorce and remarriage.

There are hardships on this face that are unspoken and locked away, but still carry their own heavy toll, forever.

There is life and death, and love and loss.  There is newfound hope and resilience and faith.

But the understanding and acceptance that 14 has now become 44 is very hard to grasp and not ever fully understood.

Who is this person?  Who am I?

As parallel as it now may seem, at 14 I was quite lost.   Or at least I believed I was.   The same could easily be said for me now.  I live each day as fully as I can.  I know there is a bigger me, a bigger picture out there somewhere.  And yet, I carry on.  The 14 year old inside the 44 year old body.  Moving forward, remaining hopeful, knowing there is a me out there yet to be discovered, yet to be realized.

But I have to believe that someday I will move on.  The 14 year old me will escape and run free or will marry the age I happen to be and find peace in a new space.

Until then, I will be me.  The age I am and the age I dream of being and feeling once again.   It is my hope that the two can live peacefully and productively together.   Until then...

Macy