Tomorrow is my sixtieth birthday. To put it mildly, I have ambivelent feelings about it. I do not especially treasure my early years-I was young and stupid. My Mom, how she endured me-I cannot imagine. I very much more like myself, and my life-right now. However the reality of turning sixty-tough.
Take my word for it. It is a considerable age no longer looming in the future, but right here and now. Rob was so kind as to load the corgis up at the end of my/this 14 hour day. He remarked-“enjoy the last evening of your fifties”. It made me furious. Probably as I was not ready for the last day of my fifties. What if I did not want to give up my fifties? They had been pretty good, all things considered. For all the world it sounded like I had only one more night to enjoy my life before plunging into the darkness of an unknown decade to come-my sixties. OK, this is enough drama to make all of us laugh. He reminded me of the post I had written-about how since you can’t be anyplace else other than where you are, you might as well treasure it. Fine. But I reserve the right to miss my fifties.
I don’t think many fifty somethings, or anyone any other age for that matter, has much on you.