pparently, when one turns 40, one is expected to celebrate in a spectacularly grandiose fashion. One is supposed to go into their fourth decade on this planet roaring like a lion, taking 40 by the horns and MAKE 40 THEIR BITCH. Or so I've been told.
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I know what some of you may say: Have a baby on your own; adopt; foster. And a few of you may say: Sorry, lady, you should have thought of that earlier. You're just too old. But I want to be a mother.
The grief hit me in my mid-thirties without warning. By all appearances, my life was fantastic, but there were nights when I would cry for hours. I was in mourning, but I didn't know it.
I was one of those kids people referred to as a "wise old soul" but in our culture you can't be a kid and wise. In a couple of weeks I am turning forty, so when do I officially become a Crone?
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