50

Fifty years old...

I have decided to actually just sit and write here and then finish this on my actual birthday (from Sunday to Monday). My family will be speaking to me after work, and I also have no intention of discussing my special day with the people at the college (they can give me a gift, but that's it). This is all about my feelings about my day.

So, how do I feel about it?

Some clichés come to mind: I don't feel any older. I don't look any older. I don't imagine that I will feel any different about the year because the speedometer of my life has passed a specific number.

I will wake up in the morning, exercise, shower, prep some material for work, type a little more, and then head out the door to teach an indifferent group of students basic English for a few hours, then it is back home for another potential interview (still not sure I want to work for another fly-by-night school), and the long-awaited phone call from home.

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And the calls have been coming in.

My mother was in the first wave. Her message came in while I was teaching a rather indifferent Monday morning class. Then, my brother reached out to me as I was on the platform waiting for a subway heading home. There were also more relatives reaching out to me, including my beloved godmother (she has not been feeling well, but no one is going to stand in her way when she can reach out and make her call), several text messages and others on social media (without Facebook, I am sure that many of us would completely forget each other's birthdays). And now, home with my laptop, I type this...and I wonder.

My week will continue as it always has. I have been asked repeatedly if I will go out for dinner. That means going out on my own (not much free time for others on a Monday). And I have not told any colleagues about my special day (only one or two did their own research). No free coffee at that chain (have not use my app for far too long to be acceptable as a birthday boy). No special gifts or ideas for this piece. And I feel fine about this. I suppose that there is a part of me that thinks an indifferent group of students and the possibility of a dinner I can barely afford are not enough, but I do not feel any pressure to do more.

All I wanted to say with this piece is that age really is just a number, and I hope that those of you celebrating certain milestones know this. Apparently, I share my birthday with William Faulkner, Will Smith, Heather Locklear, Mark Hamill, and Glenn Gould. Such a mixed bag cannot have that much in common...can we?

Either way, please enjoy your day as I enjoy mine: just like all the others.

;)

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You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Kendall Defoe on my Vocal profile. I complain, argue, provoke and create...just like everybody else.

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