when I have writer's block, it helps me to reread things I have written. And re-posting them fattens my blog. So sue me. :) This is my birthday post from 2010.
Forty. It's here. Officially, I still have a few hours, as I don't turn the BIG 4 - 0 until 6:30 p.m., Eastern time.
Some people (mostly women) say that "Life begins at Forty". Probably because by the time forty comes around, if they have children, they are in school full time and maybe one of them is old enough to sit for the others once in a while. They feel like they can have a life again.
But, if life begins at forty, what was I doing before? I'm pretty sure I was alive when I was trekking through tiny Swiss villages, drinking beer in Germany, swimming in the Mediterranean and gazing at the baking California desert. I was alive during Midsummer on the top of the world in Finland, where the sun never set.
I know I was alive when I crossed the finish line at the Chicago Marathon, though I felt like I wanted to die.
I've lived long enough to see my children grow from squalling, pooping and sleeping bits of protoplasm into the funny, quirky and beautiful boys they are today.
I've lived long enough to love and lose and love and lose again. The longer I live, the bigger my love and my loss.
I've laughed and cried; sometimes simultaneously. I hope the next forty years bring more laughter and fewer tears; except for the happy ones...those, I want more of.
A good ( and much younger ) friend of mine kindly pointed out some of the many people who never got to be as old as me: Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin...after I smacked him, I remembered all the ones still rocking way past forty: Bruce, Bob Dylan and Paul McCartney to name a few.
It's not over, nor has it just begun. It's just another signpost along the way. "Amy is Forty", it reads; with an arrow pointing only one way; forward.