I was moping about turning 35, that it was half way to 40.
“No, Maggie,” said Brice. “It’s half way to 70.”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Whatever. It’s a milestone on the way to something.
Maybe I would feel just as glum about it if I had done all those life things you’re supposed to have done by now. 35 could still be all boo-hoo even if I did have a for reals career, a kid or two, a mortgage and a partner legally obligated to contend with my oldness.
But I suspect those developmental delays have a bit to do with the feeling of having messed up a bit some how along the way. I turned 35 and I didn’t get it right!
So, I’ve been thinking about my “life list” and trying to identify those things that I really, really want to do before I’m done. The things that could make it feel right.
Weirdly, the things I really, really want are not that exciting at all.
I want to save enough money for retirement.
I want to be a faster runner.
I want to remember to send birthday cards.
I want to be a good aunt.
I want to grow my own basil.
I don’t have a collection of dreams that I’m afraid to shoot for. My life is far from perfect, but I’m not pining for something. There’s a vague pining for the mundane, but big things I feel like I should have done by now. Which is possibly not even pining but actually fear that my friends and cohorts are all leaving me behind.
All those things, the babies-marriage-house-career, they could still happen. I can still figure out if those are all things that I really, really want. I’m not giving up, just because of this 35 business. It’s not a deadline.
It’s a milestone. Halfway to 70.
Which is a very, very, very long time from now.
A lot of things are going to happen before then.
