Hello. I just had a birthday and I turned 45 years old. It feels like a milestone birthday for some reason. I know 40 and 50 are more of the milestones that are celebrated, but maybe I feel this way because my life is changing a lot right now. I am on the verge of finishing my first semester at a university, my kids are rapidly approaching adulthood (one is technically already an adult), and in general I feel like things are fluid and changing. It’s a good thing. Life is good, I can’t complain (but I always will 😉).

Here is a poem I wrote on my birthday, deep in the feels of aging and questioning my identity. You know, all the things that drive poetry. (Keep scrolling down to read a typed version)

45

I wish my face didn't look so tired,
I wish I didn't have chin hairs to pluck,
I wish I didn't move so slow,
I wish I didn't feel like everyone's mom.

I made a wish on a shooting star tonight.

I didn't wish for a younger face,
or a smooth chin,
or faster legs,
or for the days of my 20s back.

I made a wish for more life,
for myself,
for everyone I love,
I wished for more time.

45 is not enough.

Thanks for reading 💜

Okayest Jen and her 45 year old face, feeling ok about it. For that day.