Happy Birthday To Me!

Today, I am 38 years old.

Mom recalled Grandma saying once on the subject of growing old, "I feel the same as I did when I was sixteen. My body just won't let me do what I could when I was sixteen."

And I myself breathe the truth of that statement, feeling my physical strengths weaken as my cerebral weaknesses strengthen. But this year...this year I feel different.

This year I feel alive.

I've been without gainful employment for six months now, and a sense of failure tries to creep into my bones. I've dived into my writing, participating actively in prompts, pushing my ability beyond my comfort zone, and with that drive has come a sense of success. I finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up.

I want to be a writer.

I am a writer, but I want to support myself with monies generated from my writing. This is what I want to do. I don't have to be rich, nor do I need fame. But a modest living that will enable me to purchase a plane ticket for a vacation without worrying how rent will be met, and a few dollars I can set aside for a rainy day and a few more dollars I can set aside for my nieces and nephew to do with whatever they want. The ability to set my own hours so that I can visit with my parents and my inlaws, party with my friends, colleagues, and fans, and not have to get approval from my supervisor for time off. I want to live without needing another's leave.

I want my American Dream. A home, a dog, and a dishwasher that actually cleans my dishes. Oh, and a Winnebago and world peace.

It is this decision that woke me from my coma. From this minute forward, every step I take will be to propel me closer to this dream.

Today, I am 38 years old.
Today is the day of my birth.