Today is my birthday. 39 years and heading into 40.
An 83-year-old man came into work today to schedule appointments. He’s new to us, so this was my very first encounter with him, and he was the sweetest and most charming human I think I’ve ever met.
He said, “I proposed to my wife when we were in second grade– and then her family moved to California! But she came back in sixth grade.” They recognized each other on the street right away, “and that was pretty much it! We’ve been married for 63 years.”
It wasn’t just that– the long-lasting love and partnership– but his playfulness, his youthfulness that I loved and admired so much: Yes, this is how I want to live in the world– bringing and marveling at Delight.
What a gift to have at least another 40 years! Honestly, I’d be offended to have less than 55 given the near-centurian lives in my family. But let’s just say I’ve got another four decades, just for the sake of argument– that’s so good! That’s so many beautiful years only learning more about myself and how to be healthy and vibrant and grounded, how to allow others space, how to hold good boundaries.
These first 39 had a lot of figuring out what and where the baseline is– how marvelous to explore from this plane and discover all there is beyond (or within), and that somewhere at the end of things I get to be a ridiculously cute old person with no fucks left at all, and only joy and curiosity and honesty with my whole self.