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I remember being in my twenties and thinking about my thirties. Thirties were still young, and I saw this decade as being “awfully adult” and fraught with things like a mortgage and retirement savings. My twenties were spent graduating from university, getting married, moving across the country with my husband, having a baby…. lots of big beginnings. Your thirties are your years when you pull things together. I had my son at 29, so my thirties have been child-rearing, career-growing and getting comfortable in my own skin.

And now 40 is around the corner, so I’m thinking about that next decade.


The thing is, I never really imagined being in my forties. That seemed “old” somehow, and now that I’m nearly there, I’m mildly offended with my younger self. Because I’m not old! And anyone older than 39 will roll their eyes, too. But in this decade of my forties, my son will graduate high school, start university… A childhood will end. That gives my heart a little squeeze.

They say in your forties, you stop caring what people think in a whole new way–it’s a wild freedom. I like the sound of that!

And then, the next next stop is 50. Ack!

Decades go so fast, don’t they? In my fifties I may become a grandmother. It’s entirely possible! In my fifties, my husband is planning to retire! How can so much change in the space of ten years when it flies by so quickly?

I always thought of “life is short” as a poetic sort of thought, but holy cow, people, life is literally short! I’m glad I don’t have regrets yet–stuff I didn’t do and wish I had.

I’m glad I wrote the book, then wrote another one, and another one. I’m glad I took the wild risk of marrying a guy I didn’t know half well enough. I’m glad we had a baby, even though we could barely afford him at the time. They say if you wait until you’re ready, you’ll never be ready. I think if you wait until you’re ready, you’ll find another decade has slipped by.

But I have to say, looking at the beginning of a brand new decade is exciting, too. Oh, the possibilities!