like a ring around the moon

Yesterday morning, QG and I headed out to spend the day at our neighbor's ranch in New York, Texas, by Athens. All these pictures are from The Long Road Ranch. It was an entirely great day.

Today I find myself anxious, which I have no patience for, but I'm trying to be easy and wait till it passes. I expect to be carefree and happy every day like this yellow flower, but I think the fact that I turned the age my mom was when she died on my birthday last Tuesday has me rattled. I told myself it was no big deal, but I lied.

 All my adult life, in my mind, Mom has remained at age 52, with a comfortable gap between us, and now that's my age too. I've entered the gate which always seemed to mark the upper limit.

If I am the same age as my mom, I have to look at myself and ask questions. Am I like her in other ways? 

Did she ever really see me? Did she know me as a growing being like the tree above, or did she look right through me, as I suspect, and see a blank meadow, like this one?

 Mostly, I worry about becoming her. That's what I'm afraid of. What if I end up exactly like that woman who shared my size ten feet and easy laugh? How can I avoid it?

I want to stand on my own and declare independence,

to gather all the flotsam and DNA I've collected or been given,

and chart my own winding journey,

finding shelter in the people I love and who love me,

to end up in my own home. A home of warmth and light

from which to enjoy the twilight, and even beyond.

I want it said I claimed my own life. A life as fine and mysterious as a ring around the moon.