The Time I Still Have

A birthday reflection on time, faith, health, family, travel, and the life I still want to live.

Recently, I saw a video of a woman holding a measuring tape.

She measured the tape to her current age, then looked at what remained if she lived to 85. The inches she had already used represented the years she had lived. The portion left represented the time she might still have.

Then she asked a simple question:

What am I going to do with the time I have left?

That question stayed with me.

Today, I turn 51.

June has always carried more than my birthday.

Grammy’s birthday follows mine on June 22, and June 24 marks the anniversary of my grandfather’s passing. For a long time, even when I travelled for my birthday, I made sure I was home before Grammy’s birthday.

That was part of the rhythm of June for me—celebrating my birthday, then turning my attention to hers, while also carrying the memory of my grandfather.

June has always held celebration and grief side by side.

This year feels different.

I am celebrating my birthday in Canada, and for the first time, there is no need to rush home before June 22. Grammy is no longer waiting for me, and that truth carries a weight of its own.

But being away does not mean I have forgotten.

Celebrating does not mean I am no longer grieving.

Moving forward does not mean leaving them behind.

They remain part of my story, part of June, and part of the woman I am still becoming.

I do not say that with sadness or fear. In many ways, I am grateful. I have lived long enough to understand that life does not always unfold the way we expect it to. There have been joys, disappointments, losses, lessons, responsibilities, interruptions, and moments when I have simply tried to keep going.

But turning 51 has made me pause.

There are still things I want to do. Places I want to visit. Parts of myself I want to rediscover. There are dreams I have delayed, softened, talked myself out of, or placed on a shelf because life had other demands.

The measuring tape reminded me that time is not only something we count.

It is something we use.

Starting With Family

This year, I am celebrating my birthday away from home in Canada, where I am spending time with my cousin, her husband, and their children.

I arrived on June 14, just a few days before my birthday, and there is something meaningful about beginning 51 outside of my normal routine, reconnecting with family I do not get to see regularly, and experiencing life in a different setting.

This trip is more than a change of scenery. It is an opportunity to strengthen family connections, make new memories, and remind myself that some of life’s most meaningful experiences come from intentionally making time for the people we love.

Travel has always been something I love.

There is something about leaving what is familiar, seeing a new place, and experiencing life from a different perspective that makes me feel more awake.

But I also know that international travel may become more difficult or expensive. Rising fuel costs, flight disruptions, and the general uncertainty of the world may affect how often I am able to travel abroad.

Still, I do not want to abandon that part of myself.

Perhaps the dream simply needs to adjust.

Maybe travel does not always have to mean Europe, Canada, or somewhere far across the world.

Maybe it can also mean discovering more of my own country.

Maybe it is time to island hop.

Returning to My Own Story

One of the places I would like to visit is Exuma.

My grandmother was born in Forest, Exuma, and I have never been there.

She also used to speak about Darby Island. When she was very young, she went there with her uncle and worked on the island before she was sent back to Nassau to continue school.

We tried to get more details from her, but Grammy was guarded about certain parts of her life. There were things she shared and things she kept to herself.

I may never know the full story.

But perhaps visiting Exuma would allow me to connect with the parts she did share.

I would like to see Forest. I would like to learn more about Darby Island. I would like to stand in a place connected to the beginning of her story and quietly honour the woman she became.

It would be more than a vacation.

It would be a journey into family memory.

Then there is Harbour Island.

I have visited before, but only for a day trip. My cousin and I won tickets on the Bo Hengy, and she was the first person I chose to take with me.

I remember the trip fondly, but I also know that I did not experience the island as fully as I could have. We went, looked around, and returned the same day.

I would like to go again.

This time, perhaps I would stay overnight. Walk more slowly. Take more pictures. Sit by the water. Allow myself enough time to notice where I am instead of rushing through the experience.

Family island travel can be expensive, so I will have to be thoughtful about it. A holiday weekend may sound convenient, but it may also be the most costly time to travel.

Maybe it will mean taking a Friday off and returning on Sunday. Maybe it will require planning early, watching flight prices, or choosing one meaningful trip instead of several rushed ones.

But I do not want to keep postponing life until every circumstance is perfect.

At 51, I want to begin where I can.

Caring for the Body That Must Carry Me

The more I think about the places I want to go, the more I realise that I also have to think about the body that has to take me there.

My health journey over the past year has not been easy.

After being hospitalized, I had to face the reality that caring for myself could no longer be something I continued to put off. There were follow-up appointments to attend, questions to ask, and decisions to make about how I wanted to move forward.

Some of those steps were uncomfortable. Some required me to do things I would have preferred to avoid. But I am learning that taking care of myself sometimes means doing the hard thing, even when I feel anxious, tired, or uncertain.

Sometimes self-care is not a relaxing day or a special treat.

Sometimes it is making the appointment.

Sometimes it is following up.

Sometimes it is asking the difficult questions.

Sometimes it is refusing to ignore what my body is trying to tell me.

My knee has also forced me to think more seriously about my health.

The pain, the pressure on my ankle, the difficulty with movement, and the frustration of not being able to walk as freely as I would like have all made something very clear: I need to take better care of myself.

Getting serious about weight loss and exercise is no longer simply about appearance.

It is about mobility.

It is about taking pressure off my knees and ankle. It is about being able to travel, walk through an airport, explore an island, climb into a vehicle, and move through life with greater freedom.

I do not want shame to be the reason I make changes.

I want love to be the reason.

Love for myself.

Love for the body that has carried me this far.

Love for the life I still want to experience.

I may not be able to change everything quickly, but I can begin.

I can make better choices more often. I can find safe and manageable ways to move. I can listen to my body, rest when I need to, and still refuse to give up on becoming stronger.

I am also learning that progress does not have to be dramatic to be meaningful. Small changes, repeated consistently, can create a foundation for bigger improvements over time.

There will be setbacks. There will be days when my energy is low or my motivation disappears. But those moments do not erase the effort I have already made, and they do not mean I have failed.

This journey is not about perfection.

It is about giving myself the best chance to enjoy the experiences I dream about.

It is about building a healthier future one decision at a time.

And most importantly, it is about remembering that my body is not my enemy.

It is the companion that will carry me through every adventure still waiting ahead.

Returning to My Faith

If I am honest, the journey I am thinking about is not only physical.

It is spiritual too.

I have called myself a Christian woman, and I still believe. But I also have to be honest enough to admit that I have not been consistent with church.

I know that attending church does not make a person a Christian. Faith is more than sitting in a building on Sunday morning.

But I also know that Scripture reminds us not to forsake gathering together.

For most of my life, I have been connected to one church.

I believe in the message. I believe in what the church teaches. I have been active and involved. It has been a familiar part of my life for many years.

But when Grammy became ill, we started staying home more.

At first, it was because she needed care. Then, somewhere along the way, staying home became easier than returning.

It sounds strange when I say it aloud, but it is true.

The longer I stayed away, the harder it became to go back.

I have been at a crossroads with the church I currently attend. I cannot fully explain what keeps me away.

Maybe it is grief.

Maybe it is habit.

Maybe it is exhaustion.

Maybe something in me changed during those years of caregiving and loss.

Perhaps I have not yet found the words for it.

But I do know that I do not want my faith to become something I only claim and do not nurture.

So part of this next season is spiritual.

Maybe it means returning to the church I have known most of my life with a renewed heart.

Maybe it means finding another home church where I can grow, worship, serve, and become active again.

Maybe it begins more quietly, with prayer, honesty, Scripture, and simply showing up.

I do not have every answer.

But at 51, I do not want to keep avoiding the questions.

The Song Grammy Loved

As I thought about Grammy, I remembered a song she loved.

It was “You Gotta Be” by Des’ree, released in 1994.

Whenever that song came on, whatever Grammy was doing, she would pause and do her little sway.

She did not know every word, but she knew the message.

The song spoke about courage, wisdom, strength, love, and learning how to face life. It carried the message that different seasons will require different things from us.

Sometimes we have to be brave.

Sometimes we have to be calm.

Sometimes we have to be wiser than the situation deserves.

Sometimes we have to stand firm even when we feel tired.

Maybe that is why Grammy loved it.

She knew something about strength. She knew something about keeping parts of herself private. She knew something about doing what needed to be done.

And perhaps that is why the song returned to me now.

Because this season is asking something of me too.

It is asking me to be brave enough to care for my health.

Wise enough to stop postponing what matters.

Strong enough to face the things I would rather avoid.

Open enough to reconnect with my faith.

Curious enough to visit the places tied to my family story.

Present enough to enjoy the people who are still here.

Grammy may not have known every word, but she knew the message.

And at 51, I think I am beginning to understand it too.

Beginning Where I Can

I do not expect to transform my entire life simply because I have had another birthday.

I know myself well enough to understand that change does not always happen dramatically.

Sometimes it happens in small decisions.

Booking the trip.

Making the appointment.

Taking the walk.

Choosing a better meal.

Asking for help.

Returning to worship.

Praying honestly.

Visiting the island.

Taking the picture.

Making the memory.

Showing up for my own life.

Maybe 51 is not about having everything figured out.

Maybe it is about becoming more intentional with what remains.

I do not know how many inches are left on my measuring tape.

None of us do.

But time is still here.

And so am I.

At 51, I want to begin where I can.

One step.

One prayer.

One appointment.

One trip.

One memory at a time.