Pear #1
It is the eve of my 39th birthday. In one year and one day, I will enter a new decade. I felt a similar bit of excitement when my third decade was approaching. Having been married and divorced in my second, I welcomed 30 with nothing but appreciation for being out of my 20s.
I’m still grateful.
Forty, though, is another level. “Extra,” as those currently in their second decade and those clinging to the hipness still present in their third might say. I’ve heard many, mostly women, say that turning 40 was when they started running out of effs. They stopped caring about the opinions of others in the way that we so often and heavily do in our earlier decades. Rumor has it that it only gets better, meaning our effs keep falling away and eventually disappear in our fifth and sixth decades and hopefully our seventh and eighth and beyond.
In these last few years of my third decade, along with the hint of dwindling effs, I’ve also found myself seeking out two things that I have sacrificed to time: joy and community. There is, of course, the joy I find in the everyday. Petting the furry family member who challenges me to get out of bed without disturbing her in her awkward sleeping position. Greeting my beloved. The first sip of coffee. A good conversation at work. Parking the car and signaling the end of the day’s major responsibility. The feeling of pajamas. Petting the furry family member who challenges me to get into bed without disturbing her in her awkward sleeping position. Bidding my beloved good night.
There is also, of course, the community I find in the everyday. Stop lights, offices, checkout lines, and coffee shops are rarely places I recognize in the moment as communal spaces, but there I am, doing the exact same thing as everyone else around me. Waiting for the light to turn green. Attending meetings. Holding my groceries. Deciding which overpriced indulgence will satisfy a temporary want. Among many with whom I will never share a conversation, I do share an experience.
But there is another joy and another community, the kind that we seek out because it has been missing. We feel the void and look to fill the void.
This is how, one year and one day before my fourth decade, I find myself sitting with some Brasstown Carvers and holding the basic outline of a pear.
Kitty Eveling 