That’s right. Today marks exactly two years for A Place Called Roam; by design, a travel blog, but if you’ve been reading between the lines for the last two years, by default, it’s my lifeline to understanding where I’ve been and where I’m going. Thanks for listening. I need all the help I can get!
I’ve never been sixty (and then some) before; never been retired before, either. My life has always been filled to the brim with purpose, kids, chaos.
I’m evolving, again, morphing into the new me, shedding my skin (alas, not nearly as effectively as my younger self did) along with the kids and the chaos. It’s been as liberating as it has been frightening.
Yes, I broke my tailbone giving birth to my first child, but in typical fashion, I went right ahead and had two more; didn’t break my tailbone again, either. Nearly lost my life with the third one, but didn’t break my tailbone.
By the way, there’s plenty more where that came from; 403 reflections so far that run the gamut from astonishing to zany, colorful to wonderful, poignant to problematic. Oh, and a good bit of historical highlights, too.
My favorite posts tend to strike home with a truth revealed after much reflection (and all the voices in my head). Imagine, were it not for that reflection, I might never have discovered . . .
Watch out for the huldufolk; they like to mess with your mind, your money, and your meds!
Here's to being sixty (and then some), and to at least another two years together. You guys (and gals) have been great!