And The Door Closes...

The day after tomorrow, I will be 36 years old. I'm not sure when it happened that I became 50% older than 18, or how it is now a reality that I have been an "adult" for half of my life. The fact is, the evidence is here and I am now heading toward 40 faster than Clark Griwold on a sled after he lubed it up with cooking spray. I can see the big 4-0 in front of me and it is growing more clear by the minute.

As I head toward 40, I see doors closing all around me. I am walking down the hall of my 30's and things are changing. I am starting to see the upside of cosmetic surgery. My hair is at least 30% gray, and I could not go without coloring it. My stylist suggested to me that I needed to wear more make up. I have a daughter who will be in 3rd grade next year. I got a water softener for my birthday. (I would have liked to have a new freezer, maybe next year.) I see mothers at preschool and elementary drop off who are clearly much younger than I. Mothers who are pushing strollers look like high school students. It crosses my mind that they just might be high-schoolers; until I see them walking with their husbands and piling into a mini-van. I am getting older. I am not getting old. Just older. If I were to become pregnant today, I would be considered AMA-Advanced Maternal Age. I would not give birth until the tail end of 36, and I would be 72 when this non-existent child turned 36. Thoughts like these put things into perspective.

As I head toward 40, I see doors opening. Inside of one door, I see a time when I will be able to enjoy the company of my husband without feeling like we are more of a tag-team wrestling duo than a married couple. Inside another door, I see my children dressing themselves and eating a snack which they acquired for themselves. Inside a far off door, I see my new identity forming and I like the person who walks out of that door.

People groan at the thought of becoming older. We're all a bit scared of what we will see when we get over the proverbial "hill." I think a bit of forethought can make for a fabulous walk down the halls of life. A bit of endurance training can make those hills not only manageable, but exciting. As far as I can tell, I'm not even half way through this marathon called life and I refuse to give up now. I probably won't even start to sprint until the last 10k. Bring it on.