A Year of Sundays

As a child, I remember thinking that being thirty-nine years old must feel not only like a month of Sundays, but an entire year of Sundays.  You know that Sunday feeling...kind of bored, wanting to do something fun, but knowing you have school the next day.  Therefore, you don't bother with much of anything because the unpleasantness of school routine is mere hours away. Sundays without motivation and a vague sense of dread lasted forever. Now,  imagine an entire year of still being in your thirties, but knowing forty is looming just around the corner...middle age and all the drama, or lack thereof that comes with it.  I knew the same kind of anxious feeling must ensue.  I am happy to say, however, that I had it completely wrong as a kid.  It doesn't feel that way at all.

I love this age. I am feeling really energized as I head into the last year of my thirties.  I feel much more connected to my own life than I ever have before and really capable of achieving the things I have always wanted to do.  My creativity has returned to me after several years' absence and I am in better physical shape than I have been in a very long time.  One of the things I appreciate most about this very moment, is the fact that my world view and my understanding of  life has solidified over the past year and I am happy with what I know to be my truth about things.  I have grown in so many ways over the last decade that when evaluating who I was at 29 and who I am at 39 requires serious thought because of the immense differences in how I view myself and the world around me.

Anyway, my 39th year will not be a year of Sundays.  I am going to think of it as a year of Friday nights or Saturdays.  You know that beginning of the weekend feeling when anything is possible and a good time can always be had.  The hours of freedom stretch out before you and life is really, really good.  Happy birthday to me!