I won’t lie, it’s difficult celebrating today. But it’s also sort of necessary, isn’t it? I mean, every year on this day, I look at the flowers blooming and think, I hope I’m here one more year to see this. So, no matter what the next year brings, I celebrate last year and say goodbye to it. It’s time to turn to what’s coming with gratitude for what came before.
By Michelle Garren Flye
It’s not so important, this birthday of mine.
I’ll toast and forget it with a little red wine.
What’s fifty, after all, but a number of sorts?
It’s not like it comes with big lumpy warts.
I’m not really any older than I was yesterday—
I’ll still skip and holler in the midst of the fray.
If you think about it, each day leaves us a bit worn,
And it starts from the very hour we are born.
What’s fifty after all, but the next logical step?
Each year, just a memory, so carefully kept.
We build our remembrances up until the end,
And hope time’s passage brings us another friend.
What’s fifty? I yell to the rest of the world.
I’m nothing without age…let the years unfurl!
It’s not like it’s something we’d want to avoid.
If we try to, our hopes will just be destroyed.
What’s fifty? A point on a timeline, if you would.
Just you wait, this year I’ll make fifty look good.