Let me paint a portrait for you.
Yesterday Nashville had its first “blizzard” of the year, going from 65 degrees to 23 degrees in just 24 hours. The icy winter day turned into a night full of ice and snow. It was windy and cold.
I was getting ready for bed, and the last thing I do is walk over to the thermostat and turn it on. I don’t turn on the heat as you would expect on a night when you look out the window, and it’s like everything looks like glass. No, I turn on the air conditioning, as I do everyone. unique. night. I lower it to 60 degrees because … menopause.
But last night I decided to give Old Winter the kidneys and let him cool my room, so I opened the window by the head of my bed. I didn’t open it like it was 65 degrees, sunny, spring day, I opened it like it was 23 degrees and instantly struck in the face with the most glorious cold air. As I got into bed, the wind howled through the window, it had just opened, my husband entered the bedroom. He just looked at me and before he got into bed, he put on some sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt and crawled into bed. I smiled at him, kissed him on the head and we both apologized and thanked him for being so understanding. When I turned around to turn off the light and grab my earplugs, I was once again hit in the face with that icy air, and when I grabbed my earplugs, I noticed that they were a bit frozen. I was worried this was not a good idea.
Fast forward to a few hours later, where I woke up from a dream. In this dream, I was 30 years old and someone was inviting me to dinner. I was so excited in this dream, and when I wake up a little more I realize that it is not only a dream, but I am lying on top of all the blankets, the wind howls outside, icicles on my window INSIDE. My husband is fast asleep in sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt on the couch!
It was now 2am and I was wide awake, like making coffee wide awake and I just lay on the bed and thought for a moment. Until then, it was good for me to be a few days from 51. It was good for me to have raised two reasonably well adjusted children. I was adjusting well to my “Golden Years.” That was until that stupid dream, and I was 30 again. I sat down and thought about that dream and decided, there was no way it was actually Gina, 30 years old. In this dream, this Gina had her life in common when the real-life 30-year-old Gina was a bit shattered. Gina, 30, was a single mother with a 3-year-old and a 4-year-old, two jobs, barely making ends meet, and a love life that was questionable at best.
When the hot flash passed, I walked into the living room and grabbed my husband, my husband, who if he had a hat and gloves I’m sure he would wear them and brought him back to bed. I lay down on the blankets and listened to the combination of the howling wind and my husband snoring and wondered if this was what a midlife crisis felt like. Realizing that I was almost 51 and not 30 was unexpectedly sad for me. The only thought I had was that I had lived most of my years and was on the downward slope of life.
I crawled back under the covers, turned my pillow over to the cold side, and when a small icicle tear froze on my cheek, I thought, everything is going to be fine.