This will not be my usual post. I find myself being very introspective these days. Over the years, there are certain dates that take on different meanings to us. Days that used to mean nothing suddenly mark a happy occasion, like a baptism or anniversary. And days that used to mean something special we stop giving meaning to or try to forget.
As we get older, I’m not sure where our birthdays are supposed to fall. I know as a child, I wanted to grow older. I couldn’t wait to reach double digits. Then to be an official teen. Then sixteen, then eighteen. Twenty-one. By the time I reached a desirable age, time had speeded up and obligations had piled up and I wasn’t able to enjoy the age I wanted to be because it had already passed me by.
I turned 50 on April 4. My life…
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