Hi there. I see you. Yes, you, over there, right around the corner. No, I don't want to make eye contact, either. You were always so far away, something other people had to deal with. I knew that some day I would have to face you, but it always seemed so far away. You weren't real.
I know, it's only a number. It doesn't mean anything. Nothing changes, I am still the same person I was yesterday and I will still be the same person tomorrow. Why is this such a big deal to me? I still have the same thoughts, dreams, feelings, hopes, fears, insecurities as I always have. Why am I giving this number such power over me?
I turn 40 in less than a week. Let me just say that again. I turn 40 in less than a week. It doesn't mean anything, but it means everything.
I am still immature, and silly, and afraid, and giggly, and fun. I am still a mom, a professional woman, a daughter, a friend. I am still full of ambition. I am still full of laughter. I am still healthy. I am still attractive. I am still intelligent. I am still trying to better myself. I still learn. I still dream. How will a number change any of that?
But, I'm terrified. I haven't been the young, innocent ingenue for quite a while now. Yet, somehow it feels like a part of me is dying when I cross that threshold. I will be middle-aged. My mistakes are no longer "cute". If I make a foolish choice, I can no longer chalk it up to not knowing any better. I am old enough to know better. This is not a joke. Life can no longer sort itself out in the long run. The long run has started. I won't say I'm on the home stretch, but I've definitely come around the second turn. There is no "someday". It is now.
So, please, don't look at me. Don't make eye contact with me. Please keep moving and pretend you don't see me today. Or, if you do, please pretend along with me that I'm 20-something. Please don't notice my middle age wrapping its wings around me, enfolding me within its embrace. Please, if you can't pretend, just walk past and chuckle at my quandry when you've moved out of earshot.
This is me, looking at 40, dancing in front of me, taunting me. It is time. There are no more games. This is the real thing. This is what you call adulthood. It is taking me by the hand regardless of my desires. It is here, and I can't fight it any more. This is me, accepting who I have become and showing myself and the rest of the world that there is value to the experiences I have lived through. There is something to be said for being grown up. There is hope to aging. There is wisdom in the mistakes. There is hope in a limited time. There are still things to look forward to. This is not the end. This is another beginning.
