Birthdays

I wanted to be a rock star when I grew up. I’m 44 years old, today. I’m not a rock star. And the birthdays keep getting closer together.

So many days have flown by. More than 16,000 in the books. I remember day 8,000 like it was yesterday. Back then 44 was old-as-hell and over-the-hill. Maybe it still is.

Some days time can’t go fast enough. Other days, most in fact, I want to grab time with both hands and pin it face first to the ground, not letting it up until I say so. I want to be the one in control.

But it doesn’t work like that. 

Time don't care. It just keeps moving, never stopping to ask permission. It doesn’t give a shit who you are, how much money you have in the bank or how many Facebook friends you have. It just keeps on ticking by.

So, in honor of yet another birthday, instead of trying to control what can’t be controlled I will remind myself that all of this is temporary. Today I will embrace the fleeting nature of everything and just live in the now. Today, tomorrow doesn't exist. Because I said so. 

Take that, time.

My other birthday present to me: remind myself that you’re never too old to be a rock star.

JS