I turn forty in three weeks. Forty is supposed to be the new thirty, but it doesn't necessarily feel that way. There are some days where I feel sixty. Yet, there are other days where I wake up feeling like I am sixteen and blast the Smiths while driving to work with a smile.
Many would say I have accomplished a lot in the last forty years. I made it through my childhood for one. And through my crazy twenties. I almost self destructed more than once and it was not for lack of trying but instead through sheer grace and luck.
This weekend we hung out in Hesperia at my mother-in-law's house. The house that my late father-in-law Alberto built. People often put down the high desert, but I am beginning to see why my husband loves it so much out there. Please don't tell him though because I am loathe to move over the Cajon pass (...over the Cajon pass and through the desert to my mother-in-law's house we go...).
We hung out, swam, went hiking, ate Pozole, drank margaritas and played Mexican Train Dominos. Life should not be about being always on the go. It should be about relaxing and spending time with family.
In my twenties life was about the party. In my thirties, life was about accomplishments. Now that my forties are almost here, I need to figure out what life is about. Maybe it should be about reinvention? Or maybe it should be about challenging myself? The truth is, I am not sure. I will just have to wait and see.
