Where's my Wheeee? by Kat Magendie

I watch the commercial that shows children playing. One little girl joyously runs with her arms raised in the air. The happy go lucky look on her face makes me smile. But wait, I am snapped up short. My smile falls. I look inward. I’ll never be a child again! I’ll never birth a child again, for that matter. Granted, at fifty-one, I haven’t been a child or birthed a child for many years, but the excruciating reality of my age suddenly smacks me in the solar plexus. Where’s my wheeeee?

I’ll never be a teenager again. I’ll never have my first kiss again. I’ll never be twenty, thirty, or forty again. I’ll never have a cycle again (okay that one has some good points, but that doesn't stop my angst). There are opportunities I let slip by that I will never be able to pursue again, or worse, things I’ve wasted or done with my life that I can’t do over—it’s too late for some things, it truly is. The thoughts swirl and jitter—all the things I will no longer be, feel, do, have. I am suddenly grieving. Watching that commercial with that child gets to me more than any twenty-two year old running amok on a sunny beach in a string bikini; who cares about her? I want to be the child with my arms in the air yelling wheeeeeeee!

I let this sink in. All the years behind me, will they be equal to the years ahead? Will I get fifty-one more years? And will I one day be one-hundred and two and think—think what?, that is a mystery. I better not waste it. Wait. There are things I want to do, things I can do that I couldn’t do as a child, or as a younger woman. And, aging has been good to me physically, as I am healthy, have kept a healthy body. Time sneakily traded un-wrinkled skin and firm knees for a snappy brain, a no-nonsense attitude, and the ability to say, “Not no, but hell no.” I know I have much to be thankful for in my life that I did not when I was younger. Still. The image of that carefree kid. I stop and smile. How many women have felt exactly as I am now? Hundreds. Thousands. Millions! Life—love it or leave it, and I’ll love it, thank you very much. I’ll feel grateful for what I have right this very moment. Why, I think I’ll go outside and run joyously with my arms raised in the air. Just because I can. What or who is here to stop me?…wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!