Halfway to a Dream
I’m about to turn 50 any second. Many of us hide this fact from the public eye. But I don’t want to. Or rather I got over the feeling that I needed to a while back. All of a sudden it dawned on me that it didn’t matter. 50 is a number. A somewhat sobering number health and living wise but a number nonetheless. And considering I’ve outlived my mother by 11 years, it does give one pause.
I remember when I turned 40. I’d made it. I was for sure I wouldn’t. Mom always said she’d be 39 forever. She died 22 days before her 40th birthday.
I remember when I turned twenty-five. For some reason I thought 25 meant that I’d be taken more seriously, that I’d put enough time in on the planet not to be seen as just a kid. It’s funny, at 50, I’d rather be around smart 25-year-olds than people my own age. That’s one of the reasons I love the internet.
What’s good at fifty that wasn’t so good at 25?
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I don’t drink anymore
I’ve been in a relationship for 21 years
I own my own house
I have a steady job
I can afford to buy any book I want, whenever I want and they’re more expensive now than then
I am calmer
I could care less what most people think
What’s different for you now that wasn’t true at some other point in your life?
