There are certain turning points in one’s life, and turning fifty was one of mine. I’m one of those people who love to give parties, and had given my husband quite a few surprise birthday parties over the years. And I was thinking, which was my first mistake, that he might give me a birthday party for my fiftieth, being such a landmark birthday. But he didn’t plan a party, or anything special. He asked me if there was anything I wanted to do for my birthday. Since we didn’t have much money, I said that I would love to just spend the day going for a drive in the hills, maybe take a picnic, and enjoy the beautiful scenery. But he didn’t have time. So we did nothing. He didn’t buy me a gift, or take me any place special, and he certainly didn’t throw me a surprise birthday party. No party at all. I cried for a week. I realized later that it wasn’t his fault I had such a rotten birthday. If I hadn’t had the expectations, I could never have been let down. But still, I was fifty. I wasn’t young and perky any more. At fifty, I was not only feeling old, I was feeling lonely, useless, and unfulfilled. No wonder I cried for a week! Two years later I got divorced and moved 120 miles away, back to my hometown where my parents and siblings were. Life took a new direction. Fifty plus is proving to be an interesting time of life. My kids are grown; I’m single and reinventing myself. I thought at first I was rediscovering myself, but then I realized the person I had been the first fifty years was no longer there. It was time to be someone better.
