FAB at FORTY
I was excited about turning 40. I still am, maybe because the alternative is ... well ... death. So, why the fuss about turning 40? Why do people, many women I know, cringe at the mere mention of their 40th birthday? Grown women refuse to admit they are in their "forties" when asked how old they are. Why?
I may have a slight clue at what the fear is all about. Not that I've experienced it (except for that brief moment of hyperventilation I felt a week before while laying in bed, realizing I will never again be 39), but I think I can somewhat understand it. The whole drama about turning 40 stems from the fact that all those days (all 146,000 of them, give or take a few leap year days) are gone. And all of a sudden the clock that ticked on your nightstand for the past 40 or so years is ticking twice as fast. The fear that life is on fast forward, hurdling you towards your final days at 100 miles an hour seems much more prevalent after 40. I guess I can see that, sort of.
For me, even though I have no fear of 40, 50 or 60, I was reminded that new days were ahead of me (and that there were many behind me!) about a month before my birthday. We were traveling through Georgia on our way to the mountains and I swear to you, the signs of my pending 40th birthday were like beacons guiding me into the next decade. The radio stations in the mountain zone played music that I hadn't heard since I was a kid. The 70s music blast-from-the-past weekend brought back memories of my red corduroy culottes (if you know what these are, you're as old as I am!). Songs like "You left me just when I needed you most," brought back visions of my first kiss, behind the school with the hottest boy in the 5th grade and The Carpenter's lyrics to "Top of the World," gave me a rush of excitement at all the new things ahead.
Such a feelin’s comin’ over me
There is wonder in most everything I see
Not a cloud in the sky
Got the sun in my eyes
And I won’t be surprised if it’s a dream
Everything I want the world to be
Is now coming true especially for me
Need I say more?
Billboards along the stretch of road between Georgia and North Carolina read, "It's Your Time to Soar" and"Make it Happen." How obvious was that? I smiled with every passing billboard. I was right all along. The best is yet to come. The youth IS wasted on the young. I'm getting better with age. YAH!!!! The confirmation, albeit in the form of blatant advertisements and nostalgia, was clear. Even though time DOES seem to be traveling at mach speed these days, I have so much more power now than I did THEN. Only now can I keep up. That's why they call it the power years. You're moving; always moving. I can't wait to see where I arrive.