On Nov. 23, I turned 40. The big 4-0. The age at which “youth” officially ends and Middle Age takes hold.
Many of my friends reached this milestone before me, and from what I can tell, freaking out was par for the course. Strangely, I wasn’t freaked. I wasn’t even rattled.
Now 30… 30 threw me for a loop. You see, I had this list of things I wanted to do with my life, and due to various circumstances, I was seriously behind schedule when I hit my third decade. I knew I could either a) lament the things I didn’t get the chance to do, or 2) step up my game and make my 30s count.
I chose door number two, and guess what? My 30s were the best decade yet. Yes, I struggled financially, and yes, the world decided to go to hell in a hand-basket during that time period. But I also found my soulmate and married him, achieved success in my career, moved about, traveled abroad, adopted animals, read hundreds of books, wrote constantly, honed my cooking/baking skills, traipsed through countless cemeteries, reconnected with old friends and made some awesome new ones.
Needless to say, as my 40th birthday neared, I found myself less concerned about gray hair and wrinkles and more excited about how grand my 40s would be. And to start off the decade, my husband gave me the perfect gift: A trip to Scotland.
As many of you know, Scotland is very dear to my heart. Although I have no ancestral ties to the nation, I’ve always been drawn to it. On my 34th birthday, M took me to Scotland for the first time, and the moment my feet touched the ground I knew I was home. Amazingly, he felt the same way. And when we returned to Scotland a couple years later for our honeymoon, we vowed to make living there a reality. That plan still stands, and it will happen. In my 40s.
Celebrating my birthday in Scotland was fabulous. We traveled through the Highlands, sipped tea and whiskey in pubs, ate handmade pies and fresh-caught fish, visited crumbling castles and metropolitan cities, played games, warmed our feet by the fire, and even shared a birthday cake with one of my dearest friends (who flew all the way from Seattle to mark the occasion).
If the next decade is anything like its debut, I can’t wait to see what happens next.
2 Comments
John Platt
You definitely have the right attitude. May your forties be the best years yet!
Steven
You know, turning 40 didn’t bother me at all, but turning 30 did. I guess the perspective shifts a bit as you get older. My thirties were pretty amazing also, but the things I did in my 39th and 40th years were a huge cut above anything that went before it.