Today I enter my 37th year on this planet. Thirty-seven…huh? No sense of vainly lying about my age when I believe that every year adds a wealth of knowledge and experience absent from any previous era. Every wrinkle, every joint that aches when it rains, every ounce that gravity adds to my weight (or at least that’s what I’m calling the reason for any extra pounds I might be carrying on my hips these days), is a badge of honour. I have lived for thirty-six years and that in itself is an achievement regardless of the fantastic time I have had getting here.
Still having said that, thirty-seven is not a particularly significant number you wouldn’t think. It’s not sixteen where evidently I was sweet nor eighteen entering the work force in the grown up world. Thirty-seven is not the new twenty-one where the world becomes your legal oyster all of a sudden. It is not thirty when I was in a stable relationship and had just escaped death from peritonitis. I spent that birthday recovering with a very quiet but grateful to be alive, celebration at home. I counted my blessings at thirty.
This year is not any of those but it is one more on my journey through the game of life. I am looking forward to my thirty-seventh year, it holds the promise of the unknown, the chance to become a better me and the possibility of fulfilment. Who needs a conventional number like 4-0 to do something exceptional? Magnificence can happen at any age and perfect harmony can still be found even in a rest home. Hmmmm, I think I’m gonna like the big 3-7, after all it has already started with four birthday songs, chocolate cake, candles and gifts. I ask you how much better can it get?
Still having said that, thirty-seven is not a particularly significant number you wouldn’t think. It’s not sixteen where evidently I was sweet nor eighteen entering the work force in the grown up world. Thirty-seven is not the new twenty-one where the world becomes your legal oyster all of a sudden. It is not thirty when I was in a stable relationship and had just escaped death from peritonitis. I spent that birthday recovering with a very quiet but grateful to be alive, celebration at home. I counted my blessings at thirty.
This year is not any of those but it is one more on my journey through the game of life. I am looking forward to my thirty-seventh year, it holds the promise of the unknown, the chance to become a better me and the possibility of fulfilment. Who needs a conventional number like 4-0 to do something exceptional? Magnificence can happen at any age and perfect harmony can still be found even in a rest home. Hmmmm, I think I’m gonna like the big 3-7, after all it has already started with four birthday songs, chocolate cake, candles and gifts. I ask you how much better can it get?
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