On This Birthday that Ends with a Five

“One foot on the brake and one on the gas, hey…” I Can’t Drive 55, Sammy Hagar

I turned one of those ages that end in a five today so I guess that means I should write something contemplative and replete with Deep Thoughts because, as such, it is a significant year.

Truth be told, I don’t really like getting older all that much. I’m supposed to hide that and instead pump myself up about the wisdom of age, caring less about what others think, gaining clarity on what matters — and that is all true and all appreciated — but I can’t pretend that I like the palpable feeling of time being in shorter supply.

I feel I should take a moment here to say that if you came here hoping for some rah-rah-rah aging rules stuff, this won’t be it.

I am at an age now that I first remember my grandmother being and at the specific age when my mother started going steeply downhill. The fact about my grandmother is just an observation; the one about my mother, though, that keeps me up at night. (Oh, plus I probably have to pee no matter what time I cut off beverages the night before, another injustice and indignity of aging.)

The good news? It often surprises me in a positive way that I am this age-that-ends-in-five. I don’t feel old, though that was always my impression of those who are this age…