Let me paint a picture for you.
Yesterday Nashville got its first “snow storm” of the year, it went from 65 degrees to 23 degrees in just 24 hours. The icy winter day turned into an ice and snow filled night. It was windy and cold.
I was getting ready for bed, and the last thing, anymore, that I do is walk over to the thermostat and turn it on. I don’t turn the heat on as one would expect on a night where you looked out the window, and it is as if everything looked like glass. Nope, I turn the air conditioner on, like I do every. single. night. I turn it down to 60 degrees because…menopause.
But last night I decided to give the reins to Old Man Winter and let him cool down my bedroom, so I opened the window by the head of my bed. I didn’t open it like it was 65 degree, sunny, spring day, I opened it like it was 23 degrees and instantly hit in the face with the most glorious cold air. As I crawled into bed the wind was howling through the window, I had just opened, my husband walked into 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 both apologized and thanked him for being so understanding. As I rolled over to turn out the light and grab my earplugs, I was once again hit in the face with that icy air, and as I grabbed my earplugs, I noticed they were a bit frozen. I was worried this wasn’t going to be a good idea.
Fast forward to a few hours later to where I woke up from a dream. In this dream, I was 30 something, and someone was asking me out to dinner. I was so excited in this dream, and as I wake up a little more I realize that not only is it just a dream, but I am laying on top of the all the blankets, wind howling outside, icicles on my window INSIDE. My husband is fast asleep in sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt on the couch!
It was now 2 am and I was wide awake, like make the coffee wide awake and I just laid in bed and thought for a moment. Up until right that very moment, I was good with being a few days away from 51. I was good with having raised two reasonably well-adjusted kids. I was settling into my “Golden Years” just fine. That was until that stupid dream, and I was 30 again. I sat and thought about that dream and determined, there was no way that was actually 30-year-old, Gina. In this dream, this Gina had her shit together when the real life 30-year-old Gina was a bit of a train wreck. 30-year-old Gina was a single mom 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.
As the hot flash passed, I walked to the living room and grabbed my husband, my husband who if he owned a hat and gloves I’m confident he would be wearing them and brought him back to bed. I laid there on top of the blankets and listened to the combination of the wind howling and my husband snoring and I wondered to myself if this was what a mid-life 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 I was on the downward slope of life.
I crawled back under the covers, flipped my pillow to the cold side and as a small icicle tear frozen to my cheek I thought to myself, everything is going to be just fine.
Photo by: www.anthonyreczek.com