Age can be a funny thing.
I'm turning forty next year - yes, the big 4-0. Some people are terrified of that designation of "middle-age", but I'm looking forward to it. Yes, I'm strange that way.
Turning twenty was wonderful; I was no longer a teenager. Thirty seemed as if the beginning of life had come, and perhaps I'd finally gain the respect of my older peers (yeah right, like that's ever going to happen). So what is the matter with turning forty? For me, absolutely nothing. I celebrate it. It means I've survived another milestone.
There was a time in my life when I didn't think I'd make it to my next birthday. When the physical body wears thin it really makes your world and focus shrink down to what is truly important. During that time, life for me was about reaching that next milestone to ensure I'd be here for my son. He became my driving life-force to do everything possible to live another day, week, month, and year.
Life has such meaning and purpose to me each and every day. I no longer struggle just to survive; now I thrive. It is a precious gift to be given a second chance.
It also means I'm moving forward. So forty, come on down!
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