Hmm, so I just turned 40. Honestly, so far, it feels just the same as 39.
I could write lots of things about how I was when I was born, when I was 13 or 18, 21 or 30. But, from my point of view, all those milestones are artificial. In fact, why am I even marking my fortieth birthday any differently from my 38th?
Five years ago, looking towards our “big birthdays” and our tenth wedding anniversary two years ago, we planned a big party for the in-between year. That would have been summer 2020.
Well, that didn’t happen!
So here I am, with some suitably middle-aged gifts (bike, Garmin watch for running, handbag, gin, and so on), a lovely meal out with my family, hugs from my parents, a husband who brings me balance, support and love, a pair of fabulous boys, various groups of wonderful friends, my blogging community, a job that I enjoy (mostly) and a home that meets our needs.
What more could I possibly want?
(Long term readers know that there’s a third little boy missing from our lives. Apart from him though, fulfillment is here.)