I have been thinking of a post about me hitting forty. I have been thinking it before birthday, during birthday, and now it has been 17 days after my fortieth birthday and I just have the mojo to write at this moment.
For my fortieth birthday, I was planning of a solo getaway, of going umrah, of spending some nights with my girls, all of them is to celebrate the so called 'newly life'. But none of them ever happened. Yet.
Turned out, on the D day, I chose just to stay home and celebrated it with my family, in a simple restaurant. My celebration mood decreasing little by little as I hit April and Daddy got sick. Then I have to prepare my son for a national exam. Along with hubby's no sugar no carbs movement, I had to squeezed my brain to make a flourless sugarless birthday cake for him. All of these actually drenched my mood of birthday celebration. But I had no regrets at all. In contrary, I felt content.
Hubby tried to impress me by surprised cake and a gift I have been craving: mirrorless camera hahaha! I also got so many birthday wishes, my boss invited me and my team to his house and he made a homemade safron ice cream. He also gave me a little gift, a handmade leather brooch from middle east. I was beyond happy.
Today, when I was preparing myself to write this post, I stumbled upon a post I did three years ago: https://wulliewullie.blogspot.com/2015/08/fridate-with-girls.html and it got me thinking.
That I have been living a good life and a good path. Who would have thought that I could finally bought a branded handbag for mom within two years after I uploaded the post? Who would have thought that I would be able to take care and to be the bread winner for both my mom and dad on their old days? Who would have thought that I could take them to fancy dinners? That glorious life people perceived by hitting forties; I actually have achieved them before I was forty.
But now that I am being forty, I have another interpretation about which life of mine that's just begun.
It is the life of being more wise, speaking in a soft manner to my parents.
It is the life of realizing my authority upon their good life.
It is the moment when I saw my father cried, just like me in my twenties being broken-hearted.
It is the life of understanding my parents' disability because they got so much older.
It is the life of me accepting aching bones during too cold aircon.
It is the new life I will be facing from now on, and still I am very grateful.
Thank you dear Allah.
Thank you for loving me so much.
