Blink of an Eye

I am not old but mellow like good wine. ~ Stephen Phillips

Forty isn't old, if you're a tree ~ Anonymous

40

The big 4-0

I am in my 40's

Don't mind me. I just keep hoping that if I repeat this enough times that next week, on my actual birthday, I won't wake up, hide under the covers and cry.

Yes, it is true. This Wednesday marks the beginning of a new decade for me. And while I'm happy to say I entered my 30s with a positive, devil-may care attitude, turning 40 is an altogether different animal.

And not for the reasons one may think.

For example, it’s not because I "look 40". In all modesty, I think I can say that, aesthetically speaking, the years have been kind...although my emerging crows feet and post-partum belly (can you still call it that when your "baby" is 4?") could happily take a hike any day now.

No there won't be any Botox, hair extensions or dressing wildly inappropriately for my age (Hello...calling all Housewives of NYC, NJ, et al.) to make me feel better this birthday.
Truth be told, if they made a reality series about my life it would probably be called the Housewife of Mayberry, but I digress.

The reason for my uneasiness this birthday comes from feeling that life is going by entirely too fast. It's like one minute I was 19 with a whole life ahead of me. A life filled with starting a career, getting married, buying a house, having children. A life filled with beginnings.

Then I closed my eyes and blinked.

And when I opened them again, all those beginnings were behind me. So, now I’m left wondering, what lays ahead?

Endings?

It's as if the last 40 years have been a roller coaster ride. Slowly I've ascended the steep hill with butterflies of anticipation about what was to come. Now, I feel like my birthday will mark a rapid descent for which I am altogether unprepared.

If only life came with an emergency brake. Or, better yet, a rewind button.

I'm just so not ready for this chapter of my life to end and the next one to begin.

And yet I know it already has.

I see it in my mom with her twinkling eyes and her unmistakable growing resemblance to my grandfather.

I see it in my grandparents who, after years in a nursing home, are barely recognizable from the vibrant couple they once were (Alzheimer’s is a bitch of a thing).

I see it in my children as they try more and more to assert their growing independence.

I see it in the grey hairs that pepper my husband's head (I've got them too but years of coloring my hair have helped me stay in denial).

All of these changes seem to be taking place and yet, I don't feel any different.

I still feel like that 19-year-old girl with her whole life ahead of her.

Only, it isn't.

I've been thinking a lot about Kelly Corrigan's book the Middle Place. For those unfamiliar, it's her memoir of how a cancer diagnosis takes her past that "middle place" in life, when you’re a parent and a child at the same time, and becoming an authentic adult. Here's one of my favorite lines from her book:

"Even when all the paperwork — a marriage license, a notarized deed, two birth certificates, and seven years of tax returns — clearly indicates you’re an adult, but all the same, there you are, clutching the phone and thanking God that you’re still somebody’s daughter."

Obviously, I would never compare turning 40 to a cancer diagnosis, but that line still really resonates with me. I'm quite happy in my "middle place". I wrap it around me like a security blanket. I'm just not sure I'm ready to leave that place behind.

So, for all of those who love me, please be patient with me. I may pout a little bit on the "big day", but I'll get over it and, more importantly, over myself.

I may even learn to embrace being a full-blown adult. Maybe.