Well, here I am.

Arriving at an age I couldn’t have imagined twenty years ago.

Forty was so old then, dried up and established. I always thought I’d be an adult by now, but instead, I feel the same age, just more sore.

Where’s the wisdom I expected to have achieved? Sure, I’ve got a slight edge on a twenty year old, but I’m nowhere near as S-M-R-T as I was hoping I’d be.

So what have I learned?

I’ve learned that an early bedtime is a good thing. And that no tv show is worth staying up another 30 minutes when I’m tired. And naps are lovely.

That eating an extra slice of cake causes far more regrets than happiness. No matter what lies my brain tries to tell my stomach.

That work expands to fill all available time, and if I want time off I need to book more than I think I’ll need six months into the future.

I can always add an extra work day in, but it’s a pain in the butt trying to cancel last minute.

I’ve learned that I can go the rest of my life without ever pulling another all-nighter,

and I hope that one day soon I won’t have to.

I’ve learned that no one can make me crazier than my kids, and no one can make my heart happier than a snuggle from the same person who I wanted to strangle five minutes earlier.

I’ve learned that my passion may not pay the bills, but it will help fuel my dreams and give me enough energy to make it through my everyday existence.

I’ve learned more than that, but I’ve also learned that my memory is getting worse, so I’ll call it a night there.

I’m very happy to have made it as far as I have, and can’t wait to see what I learn in my next forty years.