Next week is my birthday. My last year in the 30s. Here's hoping I don't get a lot of snickering "How many times have you been 39?" over the course of the following year. I've never been one to lie about my age. I own my years. That being said, I'm not sure how I feel about being almost 40. It works for other people, but I'm not sure how it works for me.
Of course, age is relative. Thirty is OLD, until you hit it. Each decade marks a decline in how old old is. Really, you're only as old as you feel. I like that quote by Satchel Paige, and it did get me thinking about what age I feel that I am. I know for awhile I would automatically answer "27" when asked my age, if I didn't give myself time to come up with the right answer. I'm not sure why, but that was the age I subconsciously thought I was for many years. Now if I had to unthinkingly answer the same question I would probably put myself at 32.
But I'm not. I'm 38, soon to be 39. That means I've got a year to plan the big party. Or maybe find a zoo to visit next year. A zoo somewhere warm. Since I'll be turning 40 on a Wednesday, I think perhaps I'll have to take a week long vacation.
But that's next year. This year I'll just have to enjoy the cake and ice cream. And candles. I love blowing out the candles and making a wish. You can't get a wish to come true if you don't blow out the candles and make one. I'm thinking that I'm going to wish to spend my 40th birthday at the zoo. Or maybe not, I can't tell or it won't come true.
Happy birthday to you, you belong at the zoo.
There are three hundred and sixty-four days when you might get un-birthday presents, and only one for birthday presents, you know.
~~ Lewis Carroll