Perfect weather. Hot and sunny on Saturday followed by an overcast, cool day. Perfect for being in doors. Nice mix.
So I met a friend, while out walking on the paths that run behind my property. I like her; mother of boys, good outlook. We have walked our dogs together. Mine is no longer here, but that’s not the point of this story.
I asked her, “Do you have a minute, or five?” as we muddled through niceties. Her shoulders dropped and she looked sadly at me.
“Are you alright?”
“Absolutely. I have a great story and if you only have a minute, I don’t want to just give you the punch line, I can tell you later.”
“Can we walk while we talk?” She suggested, clearly showing there was going to be enough time to tell the story. So I did.
June 1, yes I know it is past now, but it wasn’t when I met her on the path. I explained that if by that date, I had not had a period, I would be officially menopausal by the medical definition. Funny thing, my body was not giving me a clear indication of whether or not I was still fertile, or was fertile that one last time.
Somehow, I had imagined the drifting into menopause like one of those line graphs pointing down as it moves to the right. Things just gradually turned off and suddenly you noticed, you were no longer fertile.
Not what happened. Not at all.