last day forty-nine

fifty years ago today, i'm fairly sure my mother woke up and said, "shit, im still pregnant."

today i woke up and thought, it's my last day forty-nine. today i like to look back and take stock - of where i've been and where i seem to be headed. i began this when, forty-five years ago, my father happened to wish me a "happy last day five." i remember i looked down at my hand, and thought, "tomorrow i start a new hand. i better think about this."

i dont remember what i thought about that day, as i contemplated the fingers of my left hand. today i think about my dear friend lorraine, who died a few years ago, and whose presence i sorely miss. i think about my grandmother, who very nearly lived to see this day. i think how much i miss the one, and how much i'm grateful that the agony of what her life became is finally over for my grandmother.

i think about where i was ten years ago - newly laid-off for the first time, still fending off regular legal assaults launched by my ex. (i'm still not quite sure why he continued to be so vicious after our divorce was final. revenge for having the temerity to leave him, i suppose.) my son was still living with his father, an unwitting victim of his father's propaganda. mister ex owed me upwards of forty thousand dollars in child support. i spent a lot of time being afraid. i didn't acknowledge that i heard Voices or knew things before they happened. some weeks i didn't know how i was going to feed my three girls.

in ten years a lot has changed.

and furthermore, the war will end. blessed be.