Age Ain’t Nothing But A Number


One of my best friends turned the big four-oh this month. I remember when my mom turned 40. I was nine years old and it seemed like such a big deal. I remember thinking adamantly that we not decorate with over the hill/gravestones/black because it was so depressing.

As I approach the landmark age of forty, I am realizing that Aaliyah had it right all those years ago, age ain’t nothing but a number. 

When I was 11 years old my oldest sister was graduating from high school. She seemed so incredibly wise and mature. No way was I going to be as cool and collected as she was at the time I graduated high school. She had her associate’s degree and I felt like I could never measure up. Shortly after high school she got a job as a 911 dispatcher and I thought it was the coolest career possible. I watched Rescue 911 like it was my job. (And Supermarket Sweep-anyone else?) 

Growing up, I could never imagine myself at the age of 18, 21, 30 and beyond. Now, as my 37th time around the sun approaches I can’t imagine my life any other way. Am I exactly where I thought I would be at nearly 40? Absolutely not. There are certain aspects where I’m years and years beyond my wildest expectations and then other ways where I feel like I’m slacking. 

Landmark birthdays are something, but not as big of a deal as I once thought. They’re something to be celebrated, for sure, and it would be untrue to say that life wasn’t defined by these landmarks.

I’m learning, as I age, that these landmarks aren’t exactly what makes the journey. It’s the miles along the way.

The things we accomplish. The places we’ve lived. The friends we’ve made. Those are what count. In the end I’ve realized that it turns out, age ain’t nothing but a number. 

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