I am turning 40 this week. I tend to like getting older, mostly because it’s a sign of success in many ways. But this one is hitting me hard. I had a lot of plans of where I wanted to be this week. Most of those did not come to pass. And that smarts. I’ve got a video coming on Thursday where I talk more about my feels related to that, so moving on here.
Yeah, that’s not happening this year. My mom and I talked about having a 100 year joint celebration this year. This is not going to happen because *waves at world*. Neither of us is going to hang out in large crowds before getting fully vaccinated for COVID and I, for one, am nowhere near the front of the line. I doubt I’ll get a vaccine before summer, well after the time that celebrating the big 4-0 makes sense. So I’ll get a cake from a nearby cafe and eat it. With maybe a bit of cava or something. And because I don’t want it to go completely unremarked, I’m going to start saving to have a big party for 42, barring any other pandemics.
Honestly, this is the reason I don’t tend to get all that excited about birthdays; nothing really changes. The day after my birthday, I will get up, write my morning pages, get to the day job, and in the evening I will continue to revise the novel that I’m working on. Plenty of people start publishing after 40, and I don’t really see much of a difference in that versus publishing after my mid-thirties.
Arbitrary as it may be, this is a milestone that I thought would have meant something different. Would have been something different. But, alas. It’s a small disappointment but a disappointment nonetheless. I will get over it. And I bet the cake is going to be a big help.