Birthdays are not my kind of thing. Far, far from it. I don't know why I hate them so much because the alternative to growing old is not something I want to delve into anytime soon. So, I'm forty today. And, I am thankful to be alive to experience this birthday. Truly, I am. It's just that I got here way too quickly.
Seems like just yesterday I was sitting in a classroom writing out a timeline assignment. We were suppossed to write our dream timeline of what we want out of life. For sentimental sake I saved mine and recently took it out for a reread. I must have laughed for a good ten minutes. Here is a sampling of those youthful delusions:
Write a few bestselling novels. (Um, nope. Not yet.)
Buy a private island and live there. (I wish.)
Marry Charlie Sheen. (I dodged a bullet with that one!)
As surprising as this sounds, my dream future did not include a mortgage, car loan, a child that told me he would rather go to bed at 7 o'clock in the evening than put away the dishes and a pile of dirty laundry sitting in the hallway. My life is full of sweet stuff. No kidding. And, it's not just the Hershey Chocolate Syrup I like to drink straight from the bottle and skip the step of mixing it with milk. The sweet stuff is in the little details.
Like the other day when I arrived at my son's school for his basketball game and the way his eyes lit up when he saw me walk through the door. Or, on Sunday when I got to sit in a room with my dad and my husband and watch them watch the Daytona 500. And, how they both yelled, "There it is!" at the exact same minute in response to a wreck. It was in knowing ahead of time who my dad would pick for the best driver to ever race a car. Richard Petty followed by Dale Earnhardt, for the record. It's the two dogs fighting for the right to lay across my feet. I think there's room for them both. They don't agree.
My life hasn't exactly matched up with the fictional timeline. No private island, just a house with a mortgage and an overflowing laundry room, but I don't care. Because, I'm forty and I'm not dead yet. There's still time to get to the bestselling novels. I'm letting go of the whole marriage to Charlie Sheen idea, though.