Yesterday, I turned forty.
It looks weird when I write it: I turned forty. Four times ten. Four zero. Forty. An age that applied to people who were grown-ups now applies to me.
It feels a little weird. Not bad, not depressing, just odd. It's like new shoes. They're not exactly broken in, so they're not comfortable, but they don't hurt. I'm not getting blisters or anything over here.
I'm just forty.
Here's the thing that struck me yesterday, about the time The Fella and I were about to order adult milkshakes (ice cream and booze for the win, y'all) for dessert at my birthday lunch and I was debating -- should I? Shouldn't I? There are so many reasons to pass on this, but they look so yummy and it's my birthday -- when it hit me: this is all there is.
This? Right here? This is your life.
Which isn't to say that an adult milkshake is my life -- it's not -- but is to say that it was suddenly very clear to me that these moments are not practice for something else. This moment -- right now -- is your life. Whatever you're waiting for? Stop waiting. Whatever you're wanting to chase after? Get running. This is your moment.
Needless to say, I ordered the milkshake. Let me tell you, it was fabulous.
Forty will be, too.