I don’t want to write. I’m tired. I feel myself searching for something—a book, maybe, something lighthearted and inviting, something that might help me find my way again. I sense that the path I lost myself on is still here, waiting as if it’s calling, “Where are you?”
Twenty-three people gathered to celebrate Evelyn’s fifth birthday, filling our house with laughter and energy. She was showered with thoughtful gifts: a shiny new scooter, a huge shark-head car track car wash, a gecko toy that climbs walls, and a basket and bell for her bike. The house was a colorful retreat, decorated with forty-four helium balloons and twisted pink and purple streamers. I watched Evelyn take it all in, maybe really feeling what it means to be celebrated for the first time.
We served pizza, homemade dressings, and cake, each treat carefully chosen and enjoyed in the way you do when you’re with family and friends. Now my feet ache, and my head feels heavy—I wish I’d written earlier, captured these moments before I was so drained.
But despite the exhaustion, I’m still wrapped in a sense of gratitude for today. The warmth of being surrounded by loved ones, of seeing Evelyn’s eyes light up, reminds me that these are the days that make it all worthwhile. The house is quiet now, and as I think back on today, I feel full, blessed, like maybe, for a while, I found the path again. Tomorrow will come, and maybe I’ll still be tired, but today will be one for the books.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 