Cynthia Little turned 65.
I turned 45.
Cynthia rented a beach house to celebrate with friends.
I got to become one of those friends.
Cynthia's collection of friends at the beach ranged from
those she'd known since she was 5,
to those she'd taught and befriended during her California years,
to neighbors in Washington,
to me, who tagged along with Oma as my birthday gift.
|Swimsuits and carrot cake should be mutually exclusive.|
All of Cynthia's friends are accomplished.
All are interesting.
All are strong.
All are beautiful.
I felt like I was in a novel.
But I am no Elizabeth Berg.
Nor Anne Tyler.
So the novel is not written that describes my experience.
Let me just say what I didn't do at the beach:
spend hours floating in the ocean.
What I did do at the beach:
listen to stories about interesting lives,
ask 1,876 questions,
become inspired for my own next phase,
make new friends.
They are who I hope to become.