So today, the clock rolled over once again and I’m celebrating yet another year.
Age is a funny old thing, isn’t it?
When we’re young, we’re desperate to look older.
We want to sashay past the bouncer in a club, without being confronted and asked if we’re old enough to be admitted.
We want to stand at a bar and order a drink — without being asked to produce ID.
‘Oh, she looks so grown up for her age’
Then the years roll on and (all of a sudden) being asked for ID is the most thrilling phenomenon.
The frisson of anticipation — willing the bar-tender or shop assistant to say ‘I’m sorry, do you have any identification on you?’ — when you purchase alcohol is palpable.
And when it begins to dwindle (then dry up altogether) we miss it.
I guess there’s a tipping point when we go from wanting to be older, to desperately wishing we were younger.
It isn’t necessarily about looks (albeit, heaven knows I wish I still had my 20-something skin!); but more about time.
The acknowledgement that the sands of time are running out.
Not just for us, but for ageing family members too.
My husband and I are lucky enough to have both of our parents, our friends, each other…
I love things as they are at the moment. I’m kind of at the point where I’d just like to pause time.
We all reach a point where the years start speeding by so rapidly.
The phrase ‘I can’t believe Christmas is here again already‘ seems to be bandied about with regular abandon. Along with:
‘I can’t believe it’s —
- The Olympics
- The World Cup
- My birthday — AGAIN ALREADY?!’
(Delete as appropriate.)
The decades start racking up and instead of feeling excited (certainly as I did when I reached 30 — the 20s seemed to drag on forever) there’s definitely an air of panic as you near another ‘big’ birthday.
Again, it’s not necessarily about being younger either.
It’s the stark realisation that we humans have a shelf life — and our ‘best before’ is long gone.
I wish I could be the person I am now, but with another 10 years added to my lifetime.
I sound like I’m teetering on the edge of a mid-life crisis!!
Mid-life, maybe. But crisis?
Nope, definitely not.
(Not yet anyway.)
On Being Grateful
My forty-something self is so grateful for the life she has.
For my beautiful boy. And our beautiful sons.
For our family and friends.
For the laughter lines in my face, that show what a wonderful time I’ve been having.
For the scar on my abdomen, that bears witness to the children I gave birth to.
For the fat on my thighs that shows I’ve been lording it up and eating too much rich food.
For my extraordinary life.
I’m so grateful.
Because grey hair and wrinkles aside, I’m here!
Alive and kicking.
Many thanks to Chloe — Picture Taker Memory Maker — for the wonderful pics!