ON TURNING 40

I will be turning the big 40, on June 29th. Now this isn't a pathetic plea for birthday greetings. Although they are appreciated. No, This article is my take on turning the dreaded 40 years old. So light me a candle, and frost the cake, because I'm going to be telling you all some of my thoughts.

When I was in the second grade, I was certain I would never see forty. Hey, I was only 7 and the year 2000 sounded impossible. Being forty sounded extremely old to me. I think it does for all seven year olds.

I remember Sister Mary Margaret, my teacher, talking about how lucky we would be. To be turning forty, in the year 2000. It is going to be magical, she said. Magical? Was she kidding? I would have to be working, or have three or four kids by then. I would be too old to enjoy any of the "Magic".

As I got a bit older, still in the same grammar school, I over heard a teacher saying she was forty. I hadn't thought of her as old until then. I figured she had to be the oldest teacher in the school.

When I graduated eighth grade, all I could think of was turning fifteen. I did just a week after graduation. I dreamed of all of the fun and how grown up I was going to be in my teens.

That summer I went through a sort of metamorphosis. I made friends with a Public School girl, and came out of my sheltered life. I also got a lot more responsibility at that time. My mother had to go to work, and I had to really help with keeping up the house, cooking dinner and so much more.

There I was fifteen years old just coming into my own. I was also becoming an adult much earlier that I had planned. I don't know how I did it. I was juggling new friendships, new responsibilities, and all of the things young teens go through. OK, My teens weren't as carefree as I had planned. Yet I still told myself I was just a kid. For some reason, that made me feel better. I mean, hey, kids have it easy, right?

I made it through my teens, trudging along all the way. Oh, I had plenty of good times. Don't feel sorry for me. I sure didn't.

I remember the day I turned twenty-one, vividly. I hid in my bedroom nearly all day. Whether I liked it or not, I was fully, and legally an adult. I could no longer relax behind the vial of childhood. I was an adult, and like it or not, I had to act like one.

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