On Monday morning, Connor called me from school saying that he didn’t feel well and wanted to come home. My route to the junior high goes past the high school he’ll be attending next year, and I always find myself peeking at their light-up sign as I drive past. Sometimes I’ll recognize one of the Student of the Week names, or I’ll see how the marching band did at State. This time it read, “1976-2026: 50 Years of Southview.”
I didn’t grow up around here, and I don’t know much about the history of the school district, but I found that interesting.
I’m as old as the high school. Fifty years of me.
On Wednesday morning, I came downstairs to find a gift bag on the kitchen table, with the traditional hand-drawn card by Connor standing next to it. In said gift bag was the macaroni and cheese T-shirt shown above, a wireless meat thermometer, a detailing kit for cleaning various crevices like charging ports, and a new lens for my DSLR. Each of these gifts have their own backstory, but I won’t get into those right now. Suffice to say they were all very much appreciated.
On my birthday, I always find myself comparing my phase of life to my Mom and my Memaw at my same age. It’s not really any kind of fair comparison on any level, but feels like kind of a “what if” exercise — like, what if I’d had a kid when I was in my early 20’s instead of my mid-30’s, for example.
When my Mom turned 50, she had recently moved down to Texas with my step-Gary. I forget the exact timing of everything, but she was either working as a portrait photographer or still job hunting in Fort Worth. I was a college graduate, newly married, with a house and a cat and a job at the bank.
When my Memaw turned 50, she lived in a two-bedroom apartment with my Mom and me (and possibly my Aunt Sammie, too, depending on the timing). She worked at the A. I. Root candle factory, running the (very loud) wick-braiding machine, while my Mom worked at a local nursing home as a Nursing Assistant. Both were within walking distance, since neither Mom nor Memaw had a driver’s license. I was in second grade.
As for me… At age 50, I’m living in a four-bedroom house with my husband of almost 23 years and our teenage son and our cat. I’ve been working the same tech job for about 17 years now. Our household has two cars and no car payment.
I’m grateful to be financially stable at this stage of my life, to have a family who loves me, and to get kitty snuggles on the regular. Life is good.