Thoughts at turning 60…

Oh, how I wish I could magically crawl back into the brain of that little girl me turning 1, 59 years ago today…

I know I’m at my Nana’s house in Boston… standing on her dining room table.  I know this because my uncle still owns that big, old family homestead with the same big, old windows and swinging pantry-to-dining-room door.

The old black-and-white photo gives no clue to the color of my little diaper-exposing dress (Mom?!), but I’ll bet it’s a sparkly shade of pink.  My Mom still loves pink. Poofy sleeves, ruffles and sparkle scream GIRL… as does my one top-of-head-curl.  My Mom has told me that my hair didn’t come in ’til I was approaching one, so poof, ribbons, petticoats and sparkle had to suffice to state my gender.

My little scuffed white bootie-shoes look like I’ve been on-the-go.

There’s the ONE candle rising from the cake or cupcake to forever lock in that moment of 1 year old (precariously close to my shoe,  by the way, Mom!  Geesch!).

But there I am, bow-legged and poofed, standing on top of my Nana’s dining room table, staring at the rest of my birthdays to come.

What was I thinking?

This is what I was thinking.  I’m sure of it.  EVERY, EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY, EVERY DAY TO COME… standing on tables in diapers or not…

JUST DO THIS THING CALLED LIFE!