A few weeks back, I learned that a familiar face from the past, Max Jordan, just celebrated his 70th birthday. Remember him from the news segments back in the day? I couldn’t believe it at first. But after a quick search, it was confirmed: Max officially entered his seventh decade on June 1st. While I wish him all the best, this revelation was just one of many reminders that time is not standing still for me either.
Recently, during a chat with a young coworker in their early twenties, I found myself passionately advising, “This is the perfect time to explore and take risks!” and “Trust me, it only gets more complicated from here—make sure to savor these years!” Then there was the beach day when my lovely 8-year-old daughter looked at me in my swimsuit and remarked with innocent sincerity, “Mom, you’d be so cute if you were younger.” Ouch.
It’s hard to ignore the increasing frequency with which I’m being addressed as “ma’am.” Or the times I’ve referenced ’80s pop culture only to be met with blank stares (“So, there was this show called Cheers… Oh, never mind.”) As my birthday approaches in a few short months, I’m about to officially say goodbye to my 30s. The thought of turning 40 feels like an oncoming train, and I find myself wondering: How did I get here? I don’t feel 40.
Yet, here I am, living the life of a typical 40-year-old. I’ve been married for over a decade, have two children, and yes, even a mortgage. My vehicle of choice is a family wagon, and I dutifully attend PTA meetings. I wear glasses for night driving, visit the dermatologist regularly—thanks to my carefree childhood sunbathing habits—and often find myself pondering retirement savings and whether or not Botox is a slippery slope leading to more drastic measures.
My anxiety about turning 40 isn’t rooted in vanity or a longing for lost youth. It’s not about regrets or missed opportunities; if you had asked my 20-year-old self what I wanted my life to look like at 40, I would have described exactly this. But still, 40 looms large. The Big 4-0. It feels daunting.
With a kindergartner, our math homework often revolves around concepts of “adding” and “taking away.” And it struck me recently that I’ve spent most of my life in a phase of “adding.” I’ve added a partner, a fulfilling career, children, a home, and numerous friendships. These years have been about building a life.
While I know that the future will still hold opportunities for new additions (I’m still hoping to get a dog, hint hint, partner), I also realize that the next chapters will inevitably involve some losses. My children will grow up and seek independence. My beloved parents will age, a reality I’m not ready to confront. Friends may drift away or pursue new paths. Bit by bit, the pieces of my life that I’ve painstakingly assembled over the years may start to slip away.
I’ve never been one to cling to material possessions—Marie Kondo would be proud of my decluttering prowess. Yet the impending milestone of turning 40 seems to have triggered an instinct to hold on tighter to the ones I love, to pause the passage of time, if only for a moment. But deep down, I know that’s not possible.
In moments of uncertainty, I often turn to literature for guidance—be it poetry, prose, or lyrics. A favorite poet of mine, Emily Carter, offers wisdom that resonates deeply:
“To thrive in this world, you must embrace three truths: to cherish what is fleeting; to hold it close, knowing your own existence hinges on it; and when the moment comes to release it, to let it go.”
I recognize that the next 40 years will require me to let go of many things—and I admit, I’m not thrilled about that idea. But for now, I will continue to love fiercely, hold my loved ones near, and strive to enrich their lives as best as I can.
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In summary, while turning 40 brings a wave of mixed feelings, it also serves as a reminder to cherish what truly matters and to approach the future with the same spirit of adding to our lives, even as we face the inevitable changes that come with time.
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