First and foremost, vacation has taught me that I really, really, really enjoy not working for a living.  I’m hopeful I can do that more often.  Once upon a time, I thought it would drive me crazy not to have a, y’know, “job” and all- that I needed “purpose”, “ambition”, “drive”, “meaning”, all that stuff.  But right now, I think I could spend a week perfecting my baba ganoush recipe, only to abandon it to perfect french bread.  Or, I could listen to NPR and knit all day.  I think I could do that, and be content.  

On the flip side, with the right company, I feel like I could follow my ambitions of five years ago and finally go to Africa in Peace Corps.  So, I haven’t entirely lost my edge; I’ve just found some solace and peace in a wee bit of nothingness in my life, as opposed to constantly craving crises. Or, at least, I think I could find that peace, given the opportunity.

Alas, I still have to go to work every day, and most likely will have to continue doing so- in one form or another- for another 30 years or so.  But the love I am finding in cleaning out closets, finding new uses for arugula, and tying colored ribbon around clean sheet sets is really revelatory for me, considering I’ve been a completely focused career girl for as long as I can remember.

I don’t know how age is manifesting in me, other than the typical ticking clock and the new crop of silver hairs my stylist fights with every time I get my hair done.  (Seriously?  Those things stick straight up.  They are thick, wiry, and stubborn, and my stylist has to use some serious goop to get them to lay down with the rest of my highlights.)  But I wonder if this nesting impulse, this love of hearth and home, of bubbling pots and clicking knitting needles and the sheer joy I feel when the yeast blooms for an impending loaf of honey whole wheat bread is all a result of age.  

Or maybe it’s more that I’ve finally found my talent when it comes to arts and crafts.  I’ve always been a wretched artist; even my handwriting is embarrassing.  But I’ve always wanted to create, beyond the written word or song interpretation, and now I feel like I’ve found my niche. Maybe it was a disservice that traditional Home Ec had been cut from the school day by the time I was in 7th grade (and maybe I did myself a disservice by insisting on taking Shop so I could make napkin holders) but this, like so many other things in my life, is a joy that has come to me later than expected.

But I’m delighted it’s here now.  And my baba ganoush rocks.