I turn 40 on Thursday.
The weirdest part of the whole thing is that I remember when my dad turned 40, and all of the good-natured jokes we made at the time. Mom gave him a folding chair that rocked, perfect for the old folk. I was almost 11. Now we've all skipped to the next generation. How did that happen?
I don't really feel older. In some ways, I think turning 30 was a bigger mental adjustment -- 20-somethings are young, but once you hit your 30s you're supposed to be mature. The 40s really aren't that different, I guess. (Right?)
I'm throwing myself a backyard birthday party this weekend (more on that next week), asking my friends and neighbors to both celebrate and commiserate. Pizza, donuts and drinks take the edge off growing older. At least that's what I'm hoping.
No comments:
Post a Comment