Homer At 40

I don’t know if I told you, but Homer turned 40 in May. She’s doing quite well with it although when she referred to having “nose” problems calling it a bat in the cave the other day, I can say we didn’t feel much like we were in our 40s.

We snorted water out of our noses laughing.

When I talk about being in my 40s, I am sometimes reminded that it’s an odd journey we’ve both been on. I wouldn’t have made some of the choices I did purposely, but I guess it was supposed to happen like it was it did. She’s become a softball/basketball mom although she’s more than that. I’m the aging eccentric who lives in town, occasionally pisses people off in Hooterville and occasionally does all right but I’m more than that.

We were talking about outside drama earlier this week and how we didn’t like it too much. It happens around us on occasion but we are just as happy as we can be without it. We bond over small things like what’s going on and she can seriously make me laugh harder than anyone else can.

In our 40s, we have outgrown some of the woo-hoo stuff that went on when we were kids. I don’t know why people get so hung up on birthdays and age. We could care less although it hits us that we are aging. We hope gracefully.

I still act 13-years-old at times. Other times, I’m the most competent person in a crisis you would ever meet. Homer is the same way.

We are both liberal in our politics. She goes to church, me not so much. I like politics more than she does but she pays attention and studies it like she’s going to be graded. She likes romantic comedies, me not so much. She adores ice cream, I’m not crazy about it except a couple of times a year. I love pickles. She does too.

We are strong at times, fragile at others.

We try to be good women, sometimes we fail.

The issue is that it is good to connect with someone who can see your failures and appreciate your strengths, even when we are blinded by emotion, misery or ecstasy. It’s good to have that bond, if not with a sibling, with someone.

I’ve thought about a lot of things today as I’ve sat at home, watching history being made nursing this crud I’ve had, and on thing I’m fortunate to have is a connection with many people.

But one of the best is Homer.

Sort of like a love letter to my sister at 40. She’ll punch me in the arm when she gets here later.

Count on it.