Here I am, 40 today. And I don't feel all that old. There are days I do, of course. You know, when I try to get up too quickly from playing on the floor with my kids. Or when I catch my reflection in the mirror and see someone else's spotted, veiny legs where mine used to be. Or when I start spouting off unsolicited advice to people who are actually the age I like to think I am.
My mother always referred to her 30s as her "sophisticated years." I wish I could say the same. Instead of feeling worldly, knowledgeable and experienced, my 30s represented a decade of child rearing, career building, an abundance of blessings and a heart full of love with too many bumps and bruises to count.