Twenty years ago today, I woke up to 20 dead roses in my college dorm room. Later that afternoon, my friends held a wake for me. I had fun friends who decided to make the most of the fact that I was having a minor crisis about leaving my teen years behind.
Twenty years later, that seems incredibly silly (although still a fun memory). Today, I am 40 and that seems like an impossibly high number - especially since I still feel about as immature as I did back then. Well, maybe not quite.
My sister and I discussed this whole aging event recently, and here's the thing. When you've been diagnosed with stage 3c ovarian cancer at 35, turning 40 is pretty much a hill you totally want to go over. And there are several more hills I'd like to climb. Turning 40 is an accomplishment to be perfectly honest.
So no dead roses for me today. No complaining about being over the hill (even though my children - Rory especially - can hardly believe their mama is 40). To celebrate, I am flying to Oklahoma for my birthday weekend with Becky. We're going to drink coffee, explore cute restaurants, shop for all the things that you need a sister for: perfume, shoes, lipstick. I have everything I need to travel kid-free: light reading (The Royal We) and not-so-light reading (Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson) and podcasts loaded on my phone (I'm so anti-social I just want to put in headphones and pretend I can't hear or talk to anyone seated near me).
One more thought about today. Last year, I was headed for my birthday weekend with Becky. But last year, we had just learned that my cancer was growing and I would be restarting chemo. Feeling so grateful that I'm stable again and that this trip is not scheduled around doctor's appointments and trips to the infusion room. Let the celebration begin!