42 feels just fine this morning.
For the first time in a long while – as long as I can remember as a working adult, actually – I’m not filled with anxiety or dread about today.
I’m not worried that time is running out or that I’ll never create the “great thing” I sometimes fantasize about.
I feel happy, content, and confident in a way I haven’t experienced on my birthday in a very long while.
And this is a year in which I’ve had to embrace a bunch of change, primarily in my career, but also in my approach to everything from commuting to childcare to self care.
Needless to say I ought to be a wreck right now and I’m not.
Maybe this is the sense of purpose or peace or calm that I’ve heard other people in their 40’s discuss. (I’ve certainly became almost religious about exercise and sleep while not becoming monastic about the indulgences of beer or good food that I enjoy.)
Maybe this is the balance of age?
Whatever it is I’m happy to greet it with a welcoming spirit.
Happy Birthday to me!
[And if you’ve read this far, you should check out the whole Wikipedia entry for the number 42. Some pretty neat confluences around that number.]