Tomorrow is my birthday. My fortieth birthday! Strange, isn't it, how a fortieth birthday seems to represent a certain maturity, but is also a reminder how much there is to look forward to. If I think about all the life experiences that came with the first forty, and then try to imagine what the next forty will bring... I don't know if I'm excited or exhausted!
But maybe that's one of the good things about entering middle age. So many of my big ticket items on life's to do list are less demanding of my energies now. There are check marks in the columns for school, marriage, career, dream home - even donkey ownership! I can relax now, right? I got this.
Not that I expect anything to remain static, but I feel optimistic, which surprises me. Shouldn't I be worrying about wrinkles and retirement plans? Nah.
Something about milestone birthdays encourage declarations. Like that country song about the next thirty years, where he "conquers his adolescent fears" and plans to eat a few more salads and not so many beers. Me too.
I plan to grow things in my dirt. I plan to have such good dirt.
And I'll go to work, and do a good job, and I'll make more memories with my friends and family. And I'll watch the sunset with my puppies.
And I'll snuggle the cats. Whether they like it or not!
I'll do all those things, and even more. Or I won't. How would I know what the future holds. After all, I'm only forty!