It’s my birthday week. I can no longer remember how old I am. That’s how old I am. I’m in the fun time between being 40 and 50.
Remember when you were a kid and you couldn’t wait to be __(insert age here)__. There was always something to look forward to! Turning 5 meant you were ready for school, 10 was the first time in double digits, 13 you became a teenager, 16 you were driving, 18 you were an adult, 21 you could legally drink, 25 you can rent a car, 30 woohoo you made it to a real adult age! And then boom. splat. nada. zilch. What about being 40, 50, 60 and so on is there to look forward to?
Yes, I’m thankful to be alive. I’m thankful for my health. I’m just saying that something changes. Maybe we were designed this way so we start living in the moment instead of looking to the future all the time. How much of our childhoods did we spend wishing it away wishing we were older?
I think I’m turning 42. Or maybe it’s 43. I have to go do old school math to find out. But you know what? I think I’m happy where I am right now, no matter the number. No looking forward, no looking back, just being happy right where I am.