Thirty-Eight Today

Well, technically yesterday

The story of this poem: I remember reading Caitlin Moran’s How To Be a Woman in 2011, when it first came out and I was just 24. I noticed—with dread—her observation that while she doesn’t feel old in her late thirties, she is a lot more interested in sitting down than she used to be. I couldn’t imagine living a life like that back when I first bought her book, but now that I’m right there with her in my own late thirties, I feel both ready and prepared. Thanks, Caitlin.

THIRTY-EIGHT TODAY

I didn’t think I’d make it to this day:
It seemed one million miles away from me,
This place I found in time, this gentle space,
A thing that blooms with flowers and with leaves. 

A whispering became a throaty roar.
An irritant became a shining pearl,
A bodily representation for
The kinds of things that happen to a girl.

But: life’s not only nasty happenstance.
Intentional is possible with time.
I dug down and gave my best self a chance.
It’s so unlikely, but I’m still alive. 

Thirty-eight brings a period of calm. 
No more wondering: “sunrise, or a bomb?”