Six-Oh and a 55 Year Old Memory

I was five.  Five years old in a bubble that was my home in the big woods with my Daddy and Mama, brother and sister and I was the baby.

5 was and is my favorite number.  I don't know why unless I associated it with the number of people in our family.  The day before my birthday in 1968, I remember being on the carport by my five-year-old self and feeling a little anxious about turning six.  I don't like the number 6 and I don't know why unless I associated it with my favorite number, it being the one after, that would leave my 5 in the dust.

So there I was in my tiny frame, spinning a birthstone ring on my bony finger wishing I could hold on to 5 a little longer.

Another 5 would come along...

15 left me on a Saturday and my Sweet Sixteen was spent at the dining room table waiting for a date that never came.  He stood me up and only said "Sorry".  I suppose it had something to do with the distance from his house to mine.  He wasn't 16 yet and had no one to drive him to the big woods was my guess.  Long way out, we lived.  My awkward larger self spinning that same birthstone ring that still fit loose on my 16 year old finger.

25.  Dark times.  God knows why and my family does too.  Long passed.

35 would find me in much better circumstances and carrying the last child I would deliver.  

I cannot recall my 45 because I was so busy raising my children and working hard to start a little crafting business.  

And then came 50. I would have 10 entire years of fives in my age.  

On my 55th birthday, I was reminded of a song by The Eagles, "Ol' 55".  Still one of my favorites groups and one of my favorite songs.  I was now in my mid 50's and "God knows, I was feelin' alive..." 

And tonight I sit here, savoring the last hours of 59.  My favorite number has held tight to me for 9 years and 364 days running and all I can think about tonight is how did so much time go by so lickety splitly?  How was I a five year old with a Mama and Daddy such a short time ago and tomorrow I'll turn 60?  SIXTY.  Sixty.  No 5 in my age until, well, another 5 years. 

So I'll have to embrace the number 6, I guess.  Time to grow up.  I lost that birthstone ring 42 years ago in a Winn Dixie, digging for a pound of hamburger meat I had no idea how to cook.  My hand got so cold it slipped right off my finger and I wouldn't miss it until the next day.  I still think about that ring.  It was from a locally owned jewelry store in Quincy, FL and I'd give anything to have it back agan.  Because it was my birthday present when I turned 5.  

I hope for a few more fives.  High ones at that.

I'm going to try really hard to make it to 95.  But I'd very much welcome 96.

Good night my fifties.  I'll see you out with one of my favorites...