I was walking the other day with Matthew and he was saying something to me which I was only half listening to. So he turned to me and said, “You fucking don't listen to me do you!” Caught between shock and amusement I asked him what he said. He repeated it to me, a slight smile on his face as that word slipped through his lips. I ignored it. there wasn't much more I could do without being totally hypocritical!
I turn 40 tomorrow — 24 March 1962 I was born. It's something that once seemed so far away. It's, no doubt, half of my life lived. I remember my father turning 40, I was 15 at the time. A cartoonist gave him a big cartoon, with him personified as a ship, and the lines, “Heading into the roaring 40's skipper” below. It was an age of naughty 40's parties.
I'd always wondered what I'd be like at 40. Whether I'd have a party. Who I'd be married to. If I'd have kids.
I've no idea where I am in a life story. I've never lived my life to a plan. I don't even know whether the best has happened, or is yet to come.
I know that I'm not finished yet. I know that I've loved fully, and yet not enough. I know that there's things I regret so badly I could tear them from me with my bare hands, and yet I also know that are part of me, part of who and what I am.
I think I'm still scared of living life fully, or not caring what I look like when I dance, of letting my how I feel rule what I do. But who would have known I'd write a journal, or have my own company, or marry a girl from Maine. Who would have known I'd be turning 40 and have two boys, two sons, waiting to grow and turn 40 in their own time.
Ah, there's so much that I want to rage against and fight against and strive against. And there's so much that I want to embrace and love and share.
I look, sometimes, at Matthew, and now Joshua, and wonder if bringing children into the world is the best thing we do. It's hard for me to imagine something more life-affirming, more joyous, more giving. I think if they learn from me and are better people, I'll have done a job to be proud of.
I'm turing 40. I feel 25. If I met Debbie now, I'd marry her in a flash, kissing her hard and sweeping her off her feet once more. I'm turning 40. The glass isn't half-full or half-empty. It just is. My glass. My life. Something I savour more as I grow older.
Wish me luck. Wish me here in 40 years, tapping at a keyboard, trying to make sense of a life lived.
last | nextLink of the day
Velvet Underground — Bootleg series Vol 1, the Quine tapes
My birthday present for myself!
Journals and blogs that I read regularly
Raising Hell
Feral Living
Hippycritical
Udder
My Life in 12 Point Font
Journal of a Writing Man
Some Jingle Jangle Morning
The Last Girl Scout
Potatoe.com
Journallife.com
Window to my Soul
Chickybabe
Sorabji.com
Yesterday's Makeup
Fifteen Milliliters
Fly Away
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Photo of tunnel copyright Bernd Klumpp, available from istockphoto.com