I turn 41 tomorrow, figured I'd squeak one last post while I'm 40 years old, still. Ha! I vividly remember turning 30, being amused at being equidistant from 20 and 40. At the time, 40 seemed a world away. Now I'm about to turn 41. I've gotten a lot accomplished in the past ten years -- a couple of kids, home ownership (and sellership -- hahah), a shitload of writing, a decade of quality work for a prestigious employer -- none of that was there when I was 30.
It makes me optimistic for the rest of my 40s, coming into my prime, getting done what I need done, and doing it with style. At the same time, it's staggering how short life is. Even though 10-year-old Dave (1980), 20-year-old Dave (1990), 30-year-old Dave (2000) and 40-year-old Dave (2010) confront each other in a kind of quantum face-off, and I can distinctly remember things from those various decades, it's still amazing and humbling just how fleeting that time is.
Each moment is so precious, but as you get older, it's hard to appreciate the moments the way you do when you're younger, when everything seems new. The "been there, done that" mentality of age can erode the gloss off of living, if you're not careful. I live very much in the moment, and find peace in it. I know I brooded far more about time and age when I was about 25 than I do, now. I still find the magic in the moments, even though I may have to be a little more conscious of them than I used to be.
So, I face 41 with a surprising amount of peacefulness. Another step into my fourth decade of life.
Grant Hart, "2541"
