In a couple weeks I will be 50 years old. I have bragged about the fact that I am ok
with this. Birthdays are really just a
number, right? Its only how old you
feel, right? Its how great you make each
day, right? Well, I have been telling
myself this since I turned 49 just so turning 50 would be no big deal. I just don’t think we have a choice in the
matter. No matter how hard or easy you
try to slide through 50, its there. In
your mind there is something about it that has been looming since you were a
teenager.
My poor husband. He
is younger than me and has no idea. His
turn will come. Right now he gets to
witness a self reflecting “whats-this-all-about-and-where-do-I-fit-in-the-big-picture-and-how-do-I-beat-the-game” attitude.
Sorry dear.
I remember when I was 17 years old. I would count the years until the year 2000
and think to myself, “wow, I sure hope I live that long”. I was 36 that year. I also at a young, inexperienced age have watched some of my friend’s parents at 50
struggling with all the blows life had given them to the best of their ability
and it touched my heart so much for them.
It also created a hasty generalization of the age in and of itself. That was my picture of 50. Struggling, chaos, traps and chains. Decisions regretting and unable to overcome. With this view came my thoughts of man, I hope I don’t have to live that long!
Even though I am approaching the major
turning point, I have learned so much, dealt with so much, and suffered so
much, I would not trade a day or desire to leave this planet at such a young age
as 50. And for the record, AARP, you are evil in sending me that application which just arms my husband with all kinds of fun. Now if I could just get this chart straightened out:
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