blue dining room


Decades are such a nice, neat measurement. I remember learning to count by tens. I can still see the worksheet with bundles of sticks tied neatly with cords. Math was such a mystery to me. I loved the sensible, clear, obvious steps of ten.

And, I remember turning ten. I got a baby brother for my birthday that year. Best. Gift. Ever.

As the decades move on, we aren’t always so happy to greet them, of course. Thirty is always a scary one for people. Such a grown-up place to go. And fifty sometimes sounds a bit decrepit. AARP starts sending out reminders. Certain eateries offer discounts. These things can be offensive to those among us who are especially sensitive.

Sixty, however, sounds marvelous to me. It sounds like the perfect combination of fully-grown yet full of opportunity. By sixty, we have pretty much made up our minds who we want to be, and we have some idea how to get there. We haven’t yet arrived, of course. We still have a long way to go. And some of us are even thinking of starting over. A second career. An artistic pursuit. Further education. Travel.

Sixty sounds like a delightful decade to me. I’m looking forward to greeting it in a few days, and I may do all the things I just described. I plan to savor this particular┬áseason of life.

And, I shall start by eating cake. Want to join me?