What if this is Life?

I’m not worried about numbers. I’m not trying to hide how old I am (I turned 32 today, for the record). Even my concern over the crease lines between my eyeballs was fleeting. It means you’ve done a lot of thinking, I told myself. I nodded, pointed them out to my mom and boyfriend, and moved on with life.

Life.

That’s what I’m most concerned with.

What if this is Life? What if there is nothing more ahead of me, nothing more behind me … only this.

This moment. This quiet house with two dogs snoring around me and my partner napping in the bedroom. This life.

I’ve been thinking about this for a few days. I’m thinking about it now as I type this. I paused, rested my face in my hands, thought about it some more.

How does that feel?

It feels good.

Really? Or are you just saying that?

No, it feels good. Like, to my core.

In a stream of consciousness, things flood my mind.

I am loved by some of the best people in the world. And not just a little-bit-loved. I mean, LOVED-loved. My work has never satisfied me the way that it does right now. At midnight today, I was awakened by my sweet man who leaned over my side of the bed to say Happy Birthday and present me with a piece of cheesecake with a lit candle. “Make a wish,” he said, that smile on his face that I love a lot. My mom texts me on important days: “Happy first day of school!” “Happy interview day!” Those little things let me know of her big love. My people, so many of you, cheer me on every day and in the ways that you know me. I’ve lived in multiple travel trailers, a renovated chicken coop, an old root beer stand and a shack at the base of some mountains. My soul has connected with animals – domestic and wild, welcome and unwelcome (let’s not forget the skunk stories). I’m fortunate, so fortunate. I have endured, tolerated, accelerated, celebrated, fallen. I have tasted some of the world’s best food, drank drinks I will never forget and hopelessly indulged. I have seen the New Mexico sunrise, and I’ve seen the way it looks setting over my favorite Kentucky Lake. My shoes are dusty with foreign soil.