The Forty

Hi my dear friend,

I know a lot of people feel 
strange about turning forty… 
But as long as I can remember, 
I've always felt fifty.

So with each year, 
I am simply nearing the age 
I actually am on the inside.

Who knows 
what it will be like 
when I finally get there.

But right now - 
not much has changed. 

And this is the first 
Sunday Love Letter 
I’m sending as a 
forty year old. 

But even though 
I do not feel that the number of 
how many years I’ve lived on this earth, 
has impacted my self-worth or 
made me ponder 
mortality… 

This last decade 
has been draped 
in death. 

In mourning 
and heartbreak. 
And excruciating loss. 

Not all of it, of course, 
but enough to seep all the way 
to my bones. 

Or to the remaining 
fragments of them. 
To the ones that survived 
my life turning 
to dust. 

And I hate that there 
always comes a “but” 
after a sentence 
like this… 

Because when 
you’re going through it, 
there is nothing good 
you would ever want 
from it. 

You just want your life back. 
For the people you love 
to come back.

But they don’t. 
They won’t.

And you’re left having 
to continue living…
When a part of you has 
gone with them. 

So that’s what I spent 
my thirties doing. 

Learning to live again. 
To begin again. 
To take a step after step 
until I’m walking again. 

But… 
And here it is. 
Good things happened too. 
Without me consenting 
to any of them. 

I grew roots. 
I became stronger 
and fiercer than I’ve 
ever been.

A woodland troll
has nothing it could say, 
that would match the places 
I’ve already seen. 

And when you’ve died
and crawled back to life,
you know that if worse 
comes to worst… 

You could always 
do that again.

Yet…
None of it would have been possible, 
if I didn’t have my people 
supporting me. 

We cannot do 
hard things alone. 
Well, we can… 
But we shouldn’t 
have to. 

I am here because of 
my family and friends. 

So notice all the wonderful 
people you already have 
in your life…
And hug them tight. 

And then go out 
and find even more of them -
somewhere out there 
in the world.

With love,
Elina Janevica

Artwork / Émile Charles Dameron, “A Lively Walk Near a River” (fragment), 19th century / personal collection