…down the cheese grater of life.

“Really bro?” 

Yeah… that’s more or less what my brother wrote in my birthday card. That and “welcome to the club.”

“What club bro?” I say though I know damn well what club. 

Should I feel special? He and I have never been in a club together so maybe that’s special but it’s such a big club… like one of the biggest so… meh. 

I haven’t talked (written) about my brother much. Ever. Unless someone grew up in our era and neighborhood they might not even know I have a brother. I talk about my sisters some but my bro made it out of the “hood” about the same time I did and never looked back. He also doesn’t spend a lot of time connecting with the family. 

He has a family of his own and lives in a suburb of Denver. He’s a rocket scientist (literally) who does a lot of hiking, enjoys superheros, and legos. Basically a super smarty-pants who has earned the right to traipse around in his Superman cape at Comic-Con because he’s on the panel to talk about actual space exploration and exoplanets. He apparently thinks he’s also earned the right to crack wise at my age. Whatever! 

If it ever comes up in conversation I’ll just remind folks about the time in high school I beat him in the annual math challenge and like a giant baby he stole my score sheet, ripped it up, and threw it out the window of the school bus we both still rode in high school. Presumably he did this to get rid of any evidence that I’m just as much of a super smarty-pants as he is. 

Good times. 

He was definitely a shit-head to me growing up and has since admitted to it and apologized for it. I suppose that makes it ok, but never can quite nullify the fact I had to live in the shadow of the golden child, every teacher’s favorite, and Mr. full-ride. Yeah… as the recipient of the Kiewit scholarship he went to Iowa State for free. 

I, on the other hand, had no life plan or motivation so I went to Iowa western community college. Also for free though as mom was so poor I qualified for a Pell Grant. Back in those days a Pell Grant would cover all the tuition with money to spare for books. 

I digress. 

Ahhhh…. Memory lane. 

Anyway, so I opened a birthday card from my dear brother last night and it will likely be the last act of my turning 50. 

50?? Five-ohhh??!!! Can that be right? 

Naaaaw. 

I don’t look 50 or feel 50. An acquaintance of mine posted “happy 4-0” on my FB page and I’m like, yes… let’s roll with that. Not that I want a do-over of that decade but let’s reset the clock shall we. 

I mean, if I could live out my 40s again through the lens of life I’m living now, I’d take it. 

Yes, I might complain a lot about my mood and struggles, but one has to remember that what you read is only a small slice of life. And it’s the sour slice. I’m not writing about rainbows and butterflies, because why would I waste a minute of actual R&B time on writing?! 

I might document a road trip or vacation or delicious cheeseburger or milestone, but that seems to have become even more rare these last few years. I write when I need to work something out. If I’m having a good time, there’s nothing to work out, like with this latest birthday.

I had some angst leading up to it, but now that it’s all over, I’m breathing a sigh of relief. The period is over. The celebrations are over. And I’ve slipped easily back to my normal routine. Hiding from the world, working on my art, and enjoying a quiet life with my family. 

I suppose that’s a good place as any to cut and run. 

Thanks for reading. 

Peace and love, 

~Miss SugarCookie