I’m 45 today.
I find that to be an incredible number, as I really don’t think I’m any different than I was at 30. Oh, some of the cosmetics have changed (Grey is the new Brown, heh), but mentally I have the same outlook I did when I was a touch younger.
This doesn’t mean I haven’t grown or matured, but I have always had a mental picture of what aging is, and it doesn’t seem to be happening to me. I find that odd. I’m one of those people that really never wanted to be young when I was; I wanted to be a grown-up, an adult. I detested being a kid: this doesn’t mean I acted grown up, but didn’t enjoy my station in life.
I do enjoy my now. I love my family, my life seems on track (note the seems: nothing ever goes quite to plan in my existence), and I see myself here for the next two dozen years. That thought makes me happy. Stability was something I took for granted growing up, all the more odd because I lived in an oilfield town where my classmates changed yearly, which you’d think would make me appreciate my good fortune. Enjoying my current circumstances has never been one of my strengths, mores the pity. Enter med school, the service, a residency, an EM job prior to this, and stability is something to pursue.
Life is good, I feel younger than the calendar suggests, and thanks for coming. Have some cake today, for me. Candles optional.
If I live through today (nice family celebration scheduled, the odds are on my side), I intend to tell the story of how I nearly killed myself, accidentally, and how that convinced me I was not taken for some Reason.