I could call this photo “Miles per Life,” quoting myself from the last time I turned the age of a speed limit. But 10 years on, I don’t think that phrase quite works with such little numbers. There have been so many more miles than 45.
For my 45th birthday, I wrote myself a quick little poem, as I did for my 35th (you can find that one here). I’m sharing it below for all of us in the vague realm of middle age.
As an adjective, “middling” means average, moderate. As an adverb, it means fairly, moderately. And though I’m not necessarily a fan of average—or adverbs!—I like the idea of navigating this life moderately. Grace to us all as we try.
Middling
Ever lover of edges
and brinks,
I don’t know what to do
with middles—
the center
the belly
of life.
The softness scares me—
far from either hard
start and end.
One friend just gave birth.
One friend just died.
Give and take.
Maybe life is in
the “and” of grace.
