I just had a slightly terrifying realization:
In less than six months, I will be 40 years old.
I say “slightly” because I’m not exactly obsessing over it. In actuality, the realization I had was really the first time I had thought about it since I turned 39 last December.
Still, though… the number alone is daunting.
Forty years. That’s four decades.
(Take that, “Seasons of Love.”)
Ten Leap Years.
And so on…
So yeah, it’s a lot to process (and I apologize if my math is bad– I’ve never been great with math).
But I’ll be okay. I mean… I don’t feel a day over 30. Heck, I still feel 20-something.
I’m not afraid of 40. At least not right now.
After all, I still have six months to enjoy my 30s. And enjoy ’em I will!