I turn 36 tomorrow. Valentine’s day. I rarely go out on my actual birthday. I don’t like fixed menus, people who don’t usually go out, trying to impress their girlfriends, crowds… so you can almost always find me enjoying my lovely birthday evening a day or two before or after.
Tomorrow will be much like any other day, for me. I’ll be up around seven, get myself some coffee, check my emails, maybe stare out the window a while. Be bleary-eyed and greet the morning slowly.
I’ll go for a walk, maybe a hike, talk to a friend or family member, play some puzzle games, look at too much internet, entertain a guest at work…
And yet it’s not like every other day.
I’m not young anymore. And that’s not me saying I’m old. I’m not old yet by any stretch.
But some of my wide eyed innocence and optimism has cooled. I’m still painfully optimistic in many ways, but my expectations have been tempered. Realism seeps through, the way the damp seeps through the walls of my tent. I’m still glad I’m camping, but I know it’ll be brisk once I leave my sleeping bag and I’ll have to move around a bit before I can get comfortable.
In someways it’s a bummer. I don’t get fired up the way I used to. The wonder of discovery comes to me less often now; I have to seek it out where before it fell at my feet. My standards for words and food and people are higher, so I enjoy fewer of them than I once did. I’ve seen so many iterations of my own faulty behavioral patterns that they irritate me when I don’t stop them in time.
And yet…
I’m able to discover things more obscure than before. The joy of understanding comes to me more often. The words and people and food that I do enjoy, I spend more time with. I am slowly growing closer and closer to being the kind of person I want to be.
I’m not as slender as I was in my twenties, but my strength and stamina are far greater. The looming specter of old age has made me determined to stay moving and functional as much and as long as possible.
I’m not as passionate as I was in my twenties, but I’m more composed now.
I’m not as firm and pert as I was in my twenties, but the sex I have now is so much more satisfying.
I don’t think younger me could have imagined the life I lead. A younger me had more paths available. More energy. But I do think younger me would be very happy with me now, and I’m looking forward to finding out what’s next.