I spent much of the Fall looking forward to my birthday, despite the fact that forty was the number on the cake. I kept telling myself that my birthday is only one day, it doesn’t mean that anything changes; and that forty could be really great if I let it. In so many ways, my life is pretty awesome… why would one day, one number change that.

I’ve only ever once gotten freaked out about a birthday; my twenty-seventh.  I have no idea why this birthday was significant.  It could have been that I was in a job where I was going nowhere, or that I was in a relationship with this guy, and I didn’t know if he was ever going to ask me to marry him (it took six more years, BTW), but woke on the day and was sad and unsure.  It took weeks to shake that feeling, and I vowed never to let the number get to me again.

Why then, did I spend the weeks leading up to this birthday freaking out just a little bit? It as the little things, like Woo telling me that all that white in my hair was not the snow that was falling, it was my hair; my hair dresser telling me that my hair wasn’t going to cooperate with me anymore unless I coloured it to “relax all the grey”, or the friend of a friend who was seemingly shocked that I was only turning forty.  The real cause of my insomnia (and I did lose several night’s sleep over this), was this picture.

My eyes are where I see it, where I show my age.  This pictured bothered me, even though it is the same face that I see when I look in the mirror. Even though it doesn’t look remarkably different , the picture stuck with me.  Even yesterday, I came across it when I was look for a different picture from that day, my reaction was the same. Old.

Then I woke up.  I was greeted by a sweet lil boy, who just wanted to whisper happy birthday into my ear, and invite me to come cuddle on the couch.  We were joined by his sister and they sang to me.  We had to go to the dentist, so enjoyed a late start to the day.  I spent the bulk of the day in Goose’s class room, then hung out with the family for a  great meal with cake, followed by a family trip to the Beavers Christmas celebration.  Now Willy and I sit, enjoying a glass of wine and each other’s company.  It’s a perfect end to a great day.

I know that the changes I saw in that picture didn’t happen overnight, and that they don’t mean that I am really old. On the other hand, if this is me getting old, I kinda like it.