“I'm not very good at being alive. Sometimes I despair of ever getting it right. Maybe when I'm old, perhaps when I'm thirty....” (From The Silver Metal Lover, Tanith Lee )
I read this little quote, and all I can say is that I get stuck on the “when I’m old, perhaps when I’m thirty.” Huh? What? When did thirty become old?
When I was in high school I had my whole life planned out. I would be married by the time I was twenty, which would be one and two years older than my sisters were when they married. I would, of course, start my family immediately, having all of my children by the time I was twenty-five. Twenty-eight at the latest.
Back then I thought that I would have kids in elementary school by the time I was thirty. Thirty. I’d be an older woman by then. I’d be seasoned, so to say.
As I got older, I began realizing that my plans were just a little off. Okay, so I’d get married by twenty-two and have all of my kids by the time I was thirty, although I kind of cringed a little when I thought of being that old when I finished having kids. I had to do what I had to do.
By the time I actually turned thirty and realized that marriage was nowhere on the horizon (although I was engaged twice), I was no longer so naïve as to think that thirty was old. In fact, I have a whole new perspective on age.
I am thirty-three years old. I am not dating anyone seriously. I have no children. I can’t even begin to predict when it might all happen. My sister, Tonya, has three boys. My sister, Roslyn, has three boys and a girl. My oldest brother has a son and a daughter, and my other brother has one boy (that we know of). They are all married, although Dan is getting divorced someday. And here I sit . . . unattached . . . with no children.
I’m okay with it. Really I am. Honest. I’m not kidding!
We had a field trip today, so I had a chance to talk to a couple of mothers. One was across from me on the bus ride down. The other I talked to for a bit while the kids were playing at the park after lunch. Both of them asked me if I had any children of my own. Both were surprised that I didn’t. After finding out that I didn’t have any, they asked how old I was.
It’s really hard for me to realize this about myself. It’s harder when others around me are so amazed.
I know that I’m not old. I’m only thirty-three. I know that I have time left before I’m no longer able to have children. It’s just that I have wanted a family since the day Rosyln was brought home. She was my third-birthday present.
Doug and I were together for three years. I had high hopes that he would be “the one.” I dreamt of having children with him. They would have been such beautiful babies. But it wasn’t meant to be. When I finally realized that he would never be ready for the commitment, I ended things. Sort of. Well, I did, but we still talk regularly. I know that it will never amount to anything, but he was a big part of my life for a long time.
I don’t want to get much older before I find my “one”. So much to do, so little time!
If only I was back in my twenties when I thought thirty was old. Heh.
this has been a collaboration for Random Acts of Journaling - October 2002
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