I'm turning 40
I’m reaching one of those milestones you hear about. The ones they whisper about when you're a kid.
Didya hear? So and so’s dad is turning 40. Oh my god is he going to die soon?
I mean probably not. I’ll probably make it out of 2019 alive. Statistically I’m sure I’m safe. My irrational trust in someone else’s math is pretty strong. Is there really any other way to live?
Was I supposed to do something? I’m going to be 40 soon and I wonder what I’ve checked off and what’s left to do. Was someone keeping track? Was I supposed to? I didn’t, by the way. No checklist or bucket list, or goals. I was mostly concentrated on a kind of one-day-at-a-time survival strategy. For the most part I never felt my future was impending. It was more that tomorrow was always the open wound that needed binding, so thinking about my location in space time twenty years, thirty years, a hundred years in the future never seemed germane.
I got married. I’ve written some books, and even shared one with the world. I’ve had a pretty good career, so far, using my education for things I think are important. I learned to live on my own, and pay bills and do my taxes and stuff. I got a college degree. I had a pretty good time in college and finally learned to relax in my own skin. I played tennis in high school. I learned to finally love some of my schooling and got into tech for the first time and started wanting to write my first novel. I survived grade school, somehow. Mostly because my brother is much better at making friends than me. I got beat up a lot. I was mad all the time. I learned to hate wearing dress up clothes. I loved playing with transformers. Also trucks. The best thing about transformers is how they are also trucks. Have you heard the good news about Thundercats?
When I turned thirty, I think I realized that only looking at tomorrow was a bad thing. It was not because of what was happening to me anymore but about how I had put my head down and pushed forward and now all I could see was the ground. It was a bad place to be.
Ten years later, some therapy, and a lot of help from the people that love me, I’m finally looking around again. Looking forward. Holding the hand of the person next to me. Ready to keep going.
I’m turning 40. How are you?