I remember the first time I realized how significantly becoming a mother had changed my life. My oldest daughter was about three months old and we were both ill with severe diarrhea. I was changing her diaper several times each hour and I had given up wearing clothes or straying more than a couple of feet from the bathroom for fear that I would make a mess before I could get there. I took more than one shower that night, letting everything pour from my body because I had no control to do otherwise. …

It is 1:00 p.m. and I can’t say for sure where the morning went. I did some reading and ran an errand and made a doctor’s appointment. I played with a spreadsheet and created some graphs strictly for my own use and pleasure. I marveled at the beauty and sadness of a winter day.

I am just as likely to spend an afternoon taking a walk through the park with my camera in hand or sitting in silence for an eternity watching and waiting for a chipmunk to emerge from his hiding place in the roots of a gnarled old oak as I am to do something “constructive” like making money or catching up on my bookkeeping. …

Well, it’s finally over — 2020 is dead and 2021 is fresh and new. Now I know that just because a day on your calendar has passed that doesn’t mean that all your problems will suddenly disappear. But after a year that has been difficult for so many people, feeling hopeful for any reason strikes me as a step in the right direction.

On New Year’s morning, shortly after sunrise, my boyfriend and I ran about a mile along the beach and then stripped down to swimsuits and plunged into the ocean while we were still hot enough from the run to be able to stand it. The day was overcast and windy and the water was probably sixty degrees. …

My maternal grandmother died when I was eleven years old. Later that same year my great aunt who lived with my paternal grandmother also died. She was like a third grandmother to me.

I was sixteen when my maternal grandfather died. I was in my twenties when my paternal grandfather died and I was lucky enough to have my paternal grandmother with me until I was in my thirties. She was the only grandparent who lived to see my oldest daughter born.

I come from a long line of humans, most of whom are already dead. I have entered my fifth decade and I know that means that I am well on my way to becoming a member of the oldest living generation in my family. I don’t sit at the kid’s table anymore — there is plenty of room at the grown-up table. …

I am fifty years old and in the first truly healthy intimate relationship of my life. Until a few weeks ago, if you had asked how this relationship was different than the others, I might have listed a number of things I’ve noticed. I might have said that my boyfriend listens to what I have to say. I might have said that he has never been anything less than completely respectful of me in every way imaginable.

I might have answered that we have fun and laugh a lot and that we truly enjoy each other’s company. I might have replied that he spontaneously helps me whenever he perceives that I am facing a challenge or that we both really miss each other when we are apart. I might have told you that he likes me — the real me and understands me in a way that is rare and beautiful. …

When I was eighteen years old, my first credit card application appeared in my college mailbox. I worked part-time and had zero credit history. I was approved within days and became the proud owner of a Discover card.

More applications came and more pieces of plastic filled my wallet. My credit score was excellent and for the next few years I paid off my cards in full every single month. I used them to earn rewards and cash. It was like getting a discount just to live. I was beating the system or so I thought.

Then, when I was twenty-four I divorced and moved to another state. I worked for minimum wage at a nonprofit. I did that for a year and used my credit cards to pay for basic necessities like food because seven bucks an hour just doesn’t cut it. Fortunately, as soon as I found a better job, I quickly went back to a debt-free lifestyle. …

I am not, by nature, a morning person, although years of being a mother has given me the ability to get up at ungodly hours and still function. I am not grumpy in the early morning, I am simply not at my best.

I prefer to awake around nine a.m. and get out of bed at ten. I like to spend some time daydreaming, stretching, and staring at the ceiling before I dare to touch feet to ground. I don’t even consider going to bed until at least midnight and I don’t care to eat dinner until around nine p.m. …

Confession time — I am not always great at “reading” other people. Most of the time, if you want me to know something, you have to tell me point blank. I will definitely return the favor, since that is the only way I know to operate in the world.

Over the years, I’ve gotten better at reading between the lines and picking up on unspoken messages,which is a useful skill in a world where people don’t always make their true intentions clear. But here’s the thing, I don’t really believe that I (or anyone else for that matter) should have to guess at what other people are thinking. Why can’t we just be up front and honest about what we need or expect? …