My daughters are twins. They were born three weeks before my 40th birthday, prematurely. If all had been well, they would have been born after my birthday. My relationship with the world around me and myself changed drastically after that. The responsibility of two little beings (whose feelings are magnified with every emotion) requires a delicacy most of the adultworld has lost.
What I did not anticipate was the change I felt toward my body. I love clothes, textiles, colors, and this remained the same. The need to be fit and strong for a non-sports-related reason transformed me. Being able to pick up my girls at age 4 and realizing that I will not be able to soon gave me a looking glass into the future. A future of immobility, lost opportunity, chronic health problems.
Couple this with family longevity in their genes, I could see a life stretched before me that was either to be a series of slow deaths — lifestyle, being out of doors — or one of renewed strength and vitality. Sitting at this crossroad scared me as a decline in quality of life laid itself out before me. I took a right turn and am slowly make my way along the other road imagining a time when the girls can go on long hikes, play golf, ski with me. We are slowly building our strength together and it is nice to not be alone.