Year 40

I was invited to the 30th birthday party of a friend and I asked him how it felt to turn 30. He shrugged his shoulders and didn't say anything. I told him that this year, I celebrated my 40th and he asked me what was tougher, the 30th or the 40th. Hands down, the tougher of the two was 30! I remember what I was doing and even what I was wearing on that birthday. On March 11, 1999, I went to work, sporting a dark purple, suade, form-fitting skirt and a lavender sweater. I sat at my desk and bawled my eyes out. I hated leaving my 20s. I hated being 30!


On March 11 of this year, on my 4oth, I woke up energetic. I got my six-year-old son ready for school and then fed my infant. By God, I was happy. How could I be 10 years older, not fit into that purple skirt anymore, have more face lines and be happy? And as I sipped my morning coffee, I contemplated this. The contemplation lasted a few days. And then I figured it out.

I am so much more settled than I was 10 years ago. Ten years ago, I hadn't written 7 plays nor had I written a book, nor had I any children. Ten years ago, there were many of my life's promises that were not fulfilled.

Ten years after crying into my tuna sandwich at my desk I find myself so much more fulfilled with life. I no longer sit at a desk in that office building. I now sit at a desk in a cramped little home office that we had built especially for me, and I write books and plays and I wipe noses and asses and I do laundry and I cook dinner and I go food shopping. I get dozens of rejection letters from publishers and theater companies and dozens of "you've lost" notifications from contests and competitions. I have a few small victories under my belt, but nothing to pay the mortgage.

So why am I happy? Because I'm doing what I love to do. Whether or not I am financially successful at my craft, the fact remains that I am doing it! I am successful in that I'm following my dreams. If I'm told that I only have two days to live, I am happy to say that I could go to my grave never having said, "Could've, would've, should've" I couldn't say that 10 years ago.

I love the lines in my face; I love the larger size skirt I wear; I love my children; and I love my husband more now than I did 10 years ago. I love all my writing rejections and my tiny little royalty paychecks, because they are proof that I'm actually doing what I love to do. 4o is a great age for me, a wonderful time and I embrace it.