09/21/2026
Today, I am 53.
And as I sit with that number, I don’t find myself thinking about age nearly as much as I find myself thinking about life—the extraordinary amount of it I have been blessed to live.
Today I feel remembered. I feel appreciated. I feel loved. And more than anything, I feel profoundly grateful.
My life has carried me farther than I ever could have imagined. Across oceans and countries, through the Caribbean islands I called home for a decade, and into friendships that now stretch around the world—from the UK to Dubai, Barbados and throughout the islands, and so many beautiful places in between.
I have collected far more than passport stamps along the way.
I have collected stories. Adventures. Lessons. Laughter. Heartbreak. Courage. Wisdom. And friendships that somehow survived oceans, years and thousands of miles.
For more than three decades, my work has given me another extraordinary gift—the privilege of touching lives. From my years in the military and medicine, to chiropractic, to working with people and animals, I have been trusted with their fears, their hopes, their healing, their animals, and often their hearts.
And every one of them left something with me, too.
There have been beautiful chapters and devastating ones. People and animals I would give anything to have beside me today. Endings I never wanted. Beginnings I never expected. And lessons I could only have learned by living through them.
Through it all, God kept leading me—even when I couldn’t see where the road was going.
For most of my adult life, birthdays meant going somewhere. Often for weeks at a time. Another country. Another island. Another adventure on the other side of an airplane window.
I loved it. And part of me always will.
But 53 feels different.
This year, I didn’t need to leave.
After all those miles, all those adventures, and all those years of searching, rebuilding, losing, loving and beginning again, I realized I had finally arrived somewhere I had spent a lifetime looking for.
Home.
Not simply a place to live, but a place where my heart is quiet.
I found my peace.
And today, there is nowhere else in the world I would rather be.
Maybe that is one of the greatest gifts of getting older—realizing that after a lifetime of chasing horizons, peace can be the greatest destination of all.
At 53, I understand something I could not have understood at 23, 33, or even 43:
A beautiful life is not measured by how perfectly it unfolded.
It is measured by how deeply we loved while we were here.
So today, I am not wishing for another life, another place, or another adventure.
I am simply grateful for this one.
For every mile traveled. Every friendship. Every animal. Every patient. Every lesson. Every heartbreak that taught me what mattered. Every person who remembered me today. And every soul who has walked beside me for a moment, a season, or a lifetime.
For the ones still beside me, and for the ones I carry with me in a different way now.
For the faith that held me when I didn’t understand.
And for finally arriving at a place in my life where my heart can simply say:
I am home. I am at peace. And I am grateful.
53 years.
Aging gratefully.
Living intentionally.
Choosing peace.
Loving deeply.
Trusting God with what comes next.
Because in the end, a beautiful life is simply the sum of what our love has done. ❤️
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