I am going to be 40 years old very, VERY soon. It feels strange to even write that, because turning 40 always seems like something that happens to other people, something you see in the movies. But now that Iâ€™ve arrived at said age, I have to say itâ€™s not bad at all. Forty, you see, is actually quite young â€“ or I still feel young, I have a great deal of energy (I have two infants and one toddler, so thereâ€™s that), I have a lot of ideas for stories, etc., and I still have my health. I mean, sure, Iâ€™m heavier and my knees are kind of creaky, but itâ€™s not like Iâ€™m paraplegic.
I got the kids, the husband, friends, and my still-kicking-it senior citizen parents. I know this particular birthday can be a source of anxiety â€“ which I get. Maybe you/I want to be at a certain place by this age, but it’s just one year our of all the years you get to live. Hopefully, I’m only at the midway. And I am trying to think of aging as Laura Linney does. I read some interview she did after Natasha Richardson died, that she thinks people should stop trying to look younger, you’re lucky you get to be your age, because not everybody makes it. This is a different take that seems very sensible.
I will say that time flies. I still remember when I thought fifth graders were impossibly older and intimidatingly sophisticated. Now I’m FORTY! BA-DA-BOOM! Every time my mom says “Nearly 40, wow, you are really old, middle-aged,” I respond, “Look who’s talking, you have a 40-year-old child.” And so on.