A few weeks ago, a colleague informed me that a well-known figure from television, Martin Reid, recently celebrated his 70th birthday. It was hard to fathom. A quick check confirmed that Mr. Reid officially became a septuagenarian on May 5. While I wish him a joyous birthday, this revelation was just one of many reminders that I am, indeed, growing older.
Recently, I found myself in a discussion with a young coworker in their early 20s, where I passionately advised, “This is the perfect time in your life to explore new opportunities!” and “Believe me, it only becomes more challenging as you age, so make the most of these years!” Then there was the beach outing with my lovely 8-year-old daughter, who looked at me in my swimsuit and innocently remarked, “Mom, you would look so adorable if you were younger.”
I’ve also noticed an increase in the number of times I am addressed as “ma’am.” There have been moments when I’ve referenced pop culture from the 1980s only to realize that my younger audience has no clue what I’m talking about—like when I tried explaining, “Three’s Company was about a guy living with two women… Oh, never mind.”
In a few months, I will officially say goodbye to my 30s. Lately, 40 feels like it’s racing towards me, and I keep wondering: How did this happen? How can I be approaching 40? I certainly don’t feel like I’m that age.
Yet, my life aligns with that of a typical 40-year-old. I’m a decade into marriage, with two children and a mortgage. I drive a family car, attend PTA meetings, wear glasses for night driving, and have frequent discussions in my mind about retirement savings and whether Botox is a wise choice, or just a slippery slope towards more invasive procedures.
My apprehension about turning 40 isn’t rooted in vanity or lost opportunities. In fact, if you had asked me at 20 what I envisioned my life to be at 40, this would be it. But 40? The Big 4-0? I’m not ready for it, and I’m not a fan.
With a kindergartner at home, our math homework often revolves around addition and subtraction—concepts of “adding to” and “taking away.” It dawned on me that thus far, my life has been about “adding”—a partner, a career, children, a home, and friends. These years have been about building a life.
While I recognize that the years ahead will still allow for new additions (like a dog, perhaps—hint, hint to my spouse), the reality is that the second phase of my life will involve loss and letting go. My children will grow more independent, my parents will age—something I’m not ready to confront—and friends may relocate or drift apart. Gradually, the pieces I’ve meticulously assembled over these four decades will start to diminish.
I’ve never been one to cling to material possessions and have a knack for decluttering. Yet, the thought of hitting 40 has triggered an instinct to hold on tighter to loved ones, to pause time if only for a moment. But I know that’s not feasible.
When seeking wisdom, I turn to words—literature, poetry, and music. One of my favorite poets, Sarah Thompson, offers a guiding light with her poignant lines:
“To thrive in this world, you must master three things: love the transient; hold it close against your very being, knowing your existence relies on it; and when the moment arrives, let it go.”
As I look toward the next 40 years, I know I will be called to release—an idea I resent. However, for now, I choose to love fiercely, holding my loved ones close and, hopefully, enriching their lives.
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In summary, turning 40 brings a blend of excitement and melancholy, filled with reflections on addition and loss. It’s a reminder to cherish connections while also preparing for the inevitable changes life brings.