44 is half of 88

A few weeks ago, I started thinking about my birthday and a feeling of dread set in.  I felt old.  I had myself convinced I WAS old.  And in some ways I am.  My body gets tired and achy a lot faster than it did 10 years ago.  I don't have the patience to deal with friend drama like I did 5 years ago.  And I'm a lot slower when I walk than I was just 2 years ago. 

But then I started thinking about the number 44.  If I live til I'm 88, I'm only halfway there.  I'm like a teenager.  I still have 44 more years left in me.  Years that could actually be a lot more fun than the first 44. 

And when I woke up this morning and was surprised by unexpected flowers and gifts from my Royal faves, I just wanted to grab on tight to this day and every other one that will follow. 

I committed to myself that I would squeeze every ounce of joy out of today and tomorrow and the next day.  Life is often hard.  Every good moment is worth celebrating--whether it's a birthday or a Monday--or both. 

And just in case I needed a reminder of my age, Caroline wrote this card for me:

"Happy Birthday.
You're just one number up and one step closer to retirement.  Even when you turn that lucky number, you will still be younger than dad.  I hope you have an amazing birthday!"

So, there is that.  Guess I have another thing to celebrate... :)