Cuarenta y Tres

Happy Birthday to me!

Forty Three.

The image is a label from a sweet, sticky, golden liquor that my mom used to indulge in on special occasions or whenever there was a serious edge to take off.   On some of those occasions, she’d let me dip my pinky finger in and taste what it was like.   Sweeter than candy and made my chest feel all warm and stuff.  She knew I’d like it too much so she started to hide it from me.  Not that I would go on independent excursions to seek it out.  But when she did happen to pull it out, I’d be right there.  Sharing in her sweet celebration or helping her to take it down a notch.

Cuarenta y Tres.   I probably would never drink that now.  Too damned sweet. And only 80 proof for all that sugar. Not worth it.

I can feel this year being different already.   There’s been enough idling.  Enough getting swept with the waves in whatever direction.   Enough whichever way the wind blows kind of philosophy.    In my gut… in my soul… I see the bull.  I feel myself wrapping my hands around the horns.  I feel myself digging my stance down and preparing to push.   It. Feels. GOOD.  And I pray to ride that feeling all the way out till I’ve retreated that son of a bitch into submission.

I’m not the little girl I used to be.  Thankfully.

Come to me, 43.  Let’s do this!

Starting with my lovely podcast with Miss Clarke Greene – a little girl who already is on the path to shake the earth and move mountains of her own!  Super proud of you, Clarke! And thank you for thinking so much of me to include my name in this list of who you consider being phenomenal women.   I promise to keep holding the light high!


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