It's 1:27 p.m. on an overcast Tuesday afternoon. I'm standing at the sink, dish towel draped over my shoulder, trying to determine how to quell an increasingly annoying ant problem. From the living room, I hear a loud twang. Addie has found my guitar and is "playing" it. She strums and bangs, and the sound is, well, unpleasant. Bridgette is doing some form of interpretive dance while Addie bangs away. I feel a slight headache coming on.
I'm 40. I hit the milestone about six months ago. Forty, to me, was a significant birthday. Somehow it seemed like the official transition from "young" to "middle age." I imagine this is around the time some experience the dreaded mid-life crisis. It certainly seemed like a good time to reflect on my life and to think about where it may be heading. After a short time, I acknowledged the uselessness of this endeavor. The truth is that I have no idea where I'm headed. I know this because, standing at the kitchen sink, I understand I never expected to be here on a Tuesday afternoon.
I'm 40. I hit the milestone about six months ago. Forty, to me, was a significant birthday. Somehow it seemed like the official transition from "young" to "middle age." I imagine this is around the time some experience the dreaded mid-life crisis. It certainly seemed like a good time to reflect on my life and to think about where it may be heading. After a short time, I acknowledged the uselessness of this endeavor. The truth is that I have no idea where I'm headed. I know this because, standing at the kitchen sink, I understand I never expected to be here on a Tuesday afternoon.
Eighteen years ago I graduated from college, packed my bags, and headed to Boston. I remember the excitement and fear I felt as the my Chevy Corsica sped down the interstate into the great unknown. I didn't have a clue what to expect and that reality was exhilarating.
It has been a long, winding, confusing, sometimes heartbreaking, frequently joyous path to where I am today. It's easy to look back on the past and have regrets. It's hard not to play the "what if" game, especially when events like birthdays come along. I'm too easily tempted to compare myself to others as I spend time with friends, scan Facebook, read about others in the news, etc. I find myself, far too often, wondering where I'd be if I'd chosen a different path; feeling as if I've somehow failed myself or my family because I'm not more successful or bringing in a little more money. These feelings are compounded, I imagine, by the fact that I am primarily a stay-at-home dad (more on this in a future post). It's a role I never expected to play, yet it is one that my family and I chose.
I'm 40. I'm not the 22 year-old guy racing down the freeway responsible for only himself. However, I do want to recapture some of his zest and fearlessness. I want to embrace the unpredictability of life. As a father and husband, I have much greater responsibilities which can make the future seem like a scary place. My challenge is to prepare as best I can for what lies ahead while reveling in the fact that it is the not knowing that makes life such an exciting journey. Where will I be at 50? I am only certain it will be somewhere I never imagined.
Which leads us back to the kitchen sink. Cristina comes rushing into the room, gives me a hug and kisses me on the cheek. "I'll see you after work," she says, grabbing her bag and heading towards the front door. Dish towel draped over my shoulder, I follow her. In the living room, Addie is still thumping away on the guitar. Bridgette is laying on the floor, spinning around, and singing, quite off key, a song she has just made up. I wince as my bare foot steps on a stray Lego, and I am wondering if we still have some Advil in the cupboard. As Cristina is closing the door, I look up at her and say, "Well, this sure isn't the life I imagined at 40." She stops, opens the door back up and says, "I'm sure it's not, but it's a . . ." I can't hear her above the guitar and singing, so I squint and say, "What?" She smiles and repeats herself. "It's a good life."
Her words seem to linger in the air above the noise and song. I watch her leave, step over Bridgette, still spinning on the floor, and enter the kitchen to finish up the dishes and do battle with the ants. It's not the life I imagined, and that's the beauty of it. It is a good life.
Happy Friday to all of you. Here's hoping that today you embrace your life for what it is right now and that you look to the future, that great unknown, with excitement. Thanks, as always, for stopping by. Please share your thoughts by leaving a comment.
It has been a long, winding, confusing, sometimes heartbreaking, frequently joyous path to where I am today. It's easy to look back on the past and have regrets. It's hard not to play the "what if" game, especially when events like birthdays come along. I'm too easily tempted to compare myself to others as I spend time with friends, scan Facebook, read about others in the news, etc. I find myself, far too often, wondering where I'd be if I'd chosen a different path; feeling as if I've somehow failed myself or my family because I'm not more successful or bringing in a little more money. These feelings are compounded, I imagine, by the fact that I am primarily a stay-at-home dad (more on this in a future post). It's a role I never expected to play, yet it is one that my family and I chose.
I'm 40. I'm not the 22 year-old guy racing down the freeway responsible for only himself. However, I do want to recapture some of his zest and fearlessness. I want to embrace the unpredictability of life. As a father and husband, I have much greater responsibilities which can make the future seem like a scary place. My challenge is to prepare as best I can for what lies ahead while reveling in the fact that it is the not knowing that makes life such an exciting journey. Where will I be at 50? I am only certain it will be somewhere I never imagined.
Which leads us back to the kitchen sink. Cristina comes rushing into the room, gives me a hug and kisses me on the cheek. "I'll see you after work," she says, grabbing her bag and heading towards the front door. Dish towel draped over my shoulder, I follow her. In the living room, Addie is still thumping away on the guitar. Bridgette is laying on the floor, spinning around, and singing, quite off key, a song she has just made up. I wince as my bare foot steps on a stray Lego, and I am wondering if we still have some Advil in the cupboard. As Cristina is closing the door, I look up at her and say, "Well, this sure isn't the life I imagined at 40." She stops, opens the door back up and says, "I'm sure it's not, but it's a . . ." I can't hear her above the guitar and singing, so I squint and say, "What?" She smiles and repeats herself. "It's a good life."
Her words seem to linger in the air above the noise and song. I watch her leave, step over Bridgette, still spinning on the floor, and enter the kitchen to finish up the dishes and do battle with the ants. It's not the life I imagined, and that's the beauty of it. It is a good life.
Happy Friday to all of you. Here's hoping that today you embrace your life for what it is right now and that you look to the future, that great unknown, with excitement. Thanks, as always, for stopping by. Please share your thoughts by leaving a comment.
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