A Half Life

Ever since I was I child, I always thought that 90 years old would be a fine age to live to. Somehow 100 seemed like far too much to ask for, and 80 seemed like far too little.  At the time, and for whatever reason, 90 seemed just right. This Sunday I turn 45 years old and can hardly believe that I’m halfway there!

Looking back, I have to admit I’ve had a pretty good life so far.  Sure, I’ve had my share of heartbreaks, mistakes and abject failures.  Who hasn’t?  But I’m healthy, I’m married and I have 4 great kids.  I even have a dog, a house, and a white picket fence. Who could ask for more?

Sure, in my weaker moments I have done just that - asked for more.  But, then those moments pass and I realize how foolish I am to consider myself anything but truly blessed to have the  life I've been given.  In fact, I think if I could have 45 more years of the same stuff, I’d definitely take it.  No questions asked!

The only problem I’m having right now is the perceived acceleration of time relative to age. As a child, the gap between birthdays, Christmas, etc. felt interminably long.  Now, it comes and goes in a blink.  It seems like just yesterday I was lamenting the sands of summer slipping through my fingers.  Now November's nearly gone!  I simply cannot abide by this rapid reduction of my remaining days.

Therefore, starting on Sunday, November 17th (the occasion of my 45th year on this earth) I will endeavor to reverse the river’s flow by counting my birthdays back down to zero. Should I live beyond my established goal age of 90, then so be it.  I’m sure a pre-conception twinkle will be worth much more than a decade of today’s warped chronographic currency!

Anyway, that’s a story for another day.  In the meantime, here’s a fun look back on how much I’ve changed in my 45 years.  And, here’s to hoping for 45 more - just like the last!