Last night I made an offhand remark to my besties, “when you’re forty” as if it were so far away… and Jackie gently reminded me that it’s only FOUR years away. Three and a half if we’re being honest.
Oh yeah. That is right.
I don’t feel like ‘almost forty’ feels like it should feel. Shouldn’t that feel somehow older? Forty. More mature? Forty. Shouldn’t I feel like everything is falling apart? Forty.
When I was twenty, forty felt almost as if a foot would be in the grave.
And yet? Notsomuch.
I forget that next year will be my twentieth high school reunion.
Are we really that old? And should I even be saying it that way?
“That old.” As if it really is.
Getting older is much weirder than I thought it would be. That first twenty years felt like it took forever and then the next twenty are gone in just a blink.
Am I the only one?