I turned 40 on Friday.
I didn’t face any existential crisis nor did I feel like I needed to re-evaluate my life. I think that over the past 40 years, from what I can remember, I have made some very good decisions, some questionable ones, and some painfully bad ones. Even after all of those decisions, tomorrow still comes. Life goes on.
I have no urges to splurge on something super expensive to fool myself into believing that “I’m worth it.” Nope. I already know that I am. The people I surround myself with already know. I don’t need to prove myself to anyone nor convince myself that some form of conspicuous consumption would make me feel better…even though for my birthday, I did receive a Tumi backpack from my mother-in-law…to replace the $2.50 Timbuk2 messenger bag that I picked up at the wholesale Goodwill in Everett, WA, where it’s price was determined by how much it weighed – not by its brand name or some socially-constructed value. To put it in perspective, the backpack roughly costs 160 times what I paid for the messenger bag.
Tumi is soooooo not me…but I’m grateful to have nice things.
Anyway, I spent the day like I usually do on Fridays – at work moving back and forth between meetings, telecons, labs, and my desk. I had planned on leaving the office at 4:30, but meetings never end on time, and since it’s the last Friday before the holiday vacation rush – everyone was trying to squeeze a last-minute meeting in. So, I got pulled in.
After work, we went out to dinner at the Pho place down the street, then came home and had cake and ice cream together.
When the kids went to bed, Shannon and I watched Sicario on Amazon Video.
This is life at 40.
It’s mostly predictable…and I wouldn’t have it any other way at this point.
Do I feel older and do I look older?
Nope and nope.
Do I feel 40?
40 years of callouses and wear and tear on my hands. It’s 40 years of scars and the cavities and the tooth fillings and crowns. It’s 40 years of sun damage that is affecting one of my corneas. It’s 40 years of memories. It’s 40 years of choices and experiences and repercussions and goals and dreams and regrets on my shoulders. It’s also 40 years of laughter and sadness. 40 years of extremes. 40 years of travels…hundreds and thousands of miles.
It’s 40 years of cumulative experience, not 40 years of culminating experience.
I’ve hit many high points and I’m sure I’ll hit many more.
Turning 40 was just another day.