The month of March has been a special one in my part of the country due to the unexpected record-breaking warm temperatures. This is also my birthday month during the year I turn sixty, now fondly referred to as my “sea of sixty.”

Facing the uncharted waters of multiple myeloma at age fifty-one left me unable to visualize this far-off decade. Looking ahead required imagining too many unknowns.

Two weeks ago when I brushed snow from my windshield, I also was not imagining a picnic by Lake Erie under eighty-degree sun on the second day of spring. My sister and I found time to walk around the edge of the waterfront where the lake joins with the Niagara River and Erie Canal. The glassy dark green waters appeared to be impenetrable and murky after an iceless winter – a sea of possibility.

We settled onto a grassy spot for a leisurely lunch of tuna sandwiches, potato chips, pickles, apples, lemonade, and chocolate kisses. There was plenty of family news to catch up on and the subject of multiple myeloma was never mentioned.

Our lives have moved beyond the two times when she took time out of her busy life to travel across several states during my initial treatment in 2004. My “new normal” was once defined by frequent talk about my health. I have graduated to a newer version of normal that includes little mention of these things.

Being here to mark the end of my sixth decade and the start of my seventh makes me feel alive with energy. Sixty is not the new forty, but it is my blank canvas. I entertain the idea of a new chapter to shape as I wish. This seems to be a time for undone things, a time for “now or never” thinking.

I read about a community in India where women are given poison on their sixtieth birthday, signifying the end of their worldly usefulness. What good fortune to be here, rather than there!

Author Judith Viorst describes the milestone as “suddenly sixty.” Cathleen Rountree calls it “the age of fulfillment.” Lewis Richmond suggests taking a view of aging in “vertical time” rather than “horizontal time.” Instead of embracing the mental picture of a linear progression of life, maintain a firm hold on the present moment, the physical expression of body and breath.

The passing of hours happens whether we are paying attention or not. We have the option of living close to that intimate place where we breathe in and out. Slow down to notice more. Feel the warmth of the sun. Gaze into deep waters. Watch colors streak the sky. Contemplate more.

My friend Bobbie says each birthday is just a continuation of life. There is no need to fuss about the specifics of the number. I suppose that may also be true for living with multiple myeloma, but I tend to want to uncover exactly how things change, to break down my experience into bite-size pieces.

I will swim in my sea of sixty in much the same way as always, but I aspire to carry on with a bit more intention and effort. I will keep in mind the words spoken by Queen Elizabeth as she advised her people many years ago: “Keep calm and carry on.”