I guess I should have known the “you are going to die junk mail” would happen. It happens to all of us sooner or later. Well, if you live long enough.
All posts in Aging
Randy and I fell in love with each other from hundreds of miles apart. We sent each other mix tapes and bared our souls in those play lists.
He gave me Radiohead, Paul Westerberg, and the Ramones. He gave me the fucking Pixies and Joe Strummer. Joe Strummer makes me want to pray, and I’m a non-believer.
21 years later and music is still part of our every day. Just this evening, we watched Talking Heads videos until Randy fell asleep. This is our version of grown up bed time stories.
Try to follow the next leap here, because it’s a big one.
I hated turning 40.
I hated it.
When I was younger, forty sounded ancient to me. Everything about it sounded saggy and tired and falling backward into an existence where fun was no more. And the footwear would be horrible.
I didn’t make my peace with my age until I neared the end of my forties. I realized a few years before turning 50 that aging was not only not so bad, but that I was having more fun than I had in a long time. Maybe ever.