Saturday I will be forty-seven. And I have some huge questions gnawing away at my brain.
First off: Will I be in my mid or late forties? If I am still in my mids, that let's me out of having to be any wiser, right? Or face a mid-life crises. Life can go on Easy Breezy Lemon Squeezy.
But late forties? I'll be responsible for knowing all of life's answers. I don't even know the questions. What do I say when asked how to bring about world peace, end suffering, and how to win at Mahjong? So much is expected at this great and noble age phase. I'm going to screw it up.
But then, if I am hitting mid-life crises stage, that means I get a new Porsche and some hot guy to ride in the passenger seat. Maybe we'll fly to Fiji to celebrate my birthday in my new jet. Well, now, that sounds good.
Second question: is there a list somewhere of things I was supposed to have accomplished by this age? And is the list about my happiness, or if my house is bigger than your house with more expensive toys in the garage. So much pressure.
Third issue: Several of my friends have already made it to the fifty year mark. They tell me they feel more free. That what others think of them is less of a concern. They feel happier.
Does that mean that I have three years left to suffer? Because I didn't even know I was suffering. I had been thinking I was pretty happy. Perhaps if I am in my late forties, then I will know if I am suffering or happy.
Finally, by the time I reach fifty, both kids will be graduated and gone. My old pets will probably be off to where ever it is that they go when they die. I will be free to live where ever I want. Should I go with tropical island vacations for the next ten years, or cruises around the world. Probably a mixture, I should think. As long as both places serve pina coladas, chocolate covered caramels, and Cabernet, I'll be set.
There are a group of yellow finches in our maple tree. I can see those little guys hopping around like they are not even involved in a forty-seven-year old anxiety. Shesh, just because they won't live a whole decade, it's like they don't even care.
Well, I guess Saturday I will find the answers to my huge questions. Think the answers come in a dream, or do angels come out and whisper what comes next into my ear? How am I supposed to wait three days to find out what happens for the rest of my life?
Maybe next life time, I'll come back as an instinct driven finch. Much easier.
Almost forty-seven year old