I woke up last night and the clock said 11:11 p.m. “This is a good sign,” I thought, relieved that there were only 49 minutes left to try and stay alive before the alarm went off on my weirdo countdown — the one that suggested I, too, might die at age 51 on December 17, like my mother did 31 years ago yesterday.

Turns out, that 11:11 sighting WAS a harbinger of good news because I woke up on December 18 still hot snore breathing through my retainers. I beat the damn clock, and I am relieved as hell.

I feel possibility and a clean slate now. I see the next half of my life as one unfettered by expectations or visions of someone else’s greatness. I am grateful to have been blessed by wonderful mother-modeling and unconditional love, and I am thankful to stow them in my tool box. I look forward to using all the resources and experience mom gave me through her example, but I am really excited to put my own spin on them. And I am eager to find new inspiration in the people around me. Those were my thoughts this morning as I flipped and twisted my hair back into the messy bun I’d learned how to make on Tik-Tok and spit out my orthodontia. “I’m not dead yet.”

It was the same sentiment I received from a college friend, who had been privy to my “will I die December 17?” blithering recently. She told me she’d give me a ring-a-ding on December 18, you know, just to check in. Just to — make sure.

“Well, Susanna, you did it (I think),” she texted this morning. “You made it to today and now the rest of your long and memorable life begins! I know yesterday was a tough one, but we love you and lift you up to experience greatness for the next 40-ish years.”

I sent her an emoji of that famous scene in “Monte Python and the Holy Grail” with the de-limbed soldier hopping around. “Not dead yet!” The gif said “I’m invincible!” underneath it. So apropos — that ridiculous hope and exuberance is exactly how I felt today.

My husband really nailed it in his morning message: “Just think how much life you have to lead now that that milestone is behind you.” Bet, as the kids say. Bet. Today, on this December 18 — the day I am one day older and more experienced than my beautiful mother Bobbie Ann was — I bid adieu to the sweet, but heavy expectations of motherhood I’ve been dragging around all these years. Today, I say hello to the 51.5-year-old who has a lot of living to do!

I’m DEF not dead yet.