Doorways
She never thought turning 60 would feel like this, like she was standing in a doorway with her whole past folded neatly behind her, boxed up in files and farewells, while the future stretched out in front of her like a page she wasn’t sure she was ready to write on. People celebrated with her. And she rode the goodbyes like a wave... she had seen too many of them lately. But she was off kilter, flailing about in the flow, not at one with it. Instead, she felt that she was going under, casting off the version of herself in her prime. She secretly hoped that she would resurface at one with the flow, instead of it spitting her out on shores foreign to herself. Yes, she smiled in gratitude. Yes, she cut the cake. Yes, she posed for photos she would later scroll through wondering why her eyes looked both relieved and slightly feral. But inside? Inside she felt the wobble of a life suddenly unstructured. After years of deadlines, expectations, and showing up even when she was running on...