It's finally here. The day you've been lamenting since this time last year… Your 40th birthday.
This post is not going to be your usual “over-the-hill” birthday taunt but rather the beginning of a new tradition: celebrating the privilege of passing time.
You know I like to tease and call you “An Elderly” for several reasons – including the peculiar way you drive. For the record, I blame the fact that you learned to operate a vehicle on the wrong side of the road in England, but still…
Then there's your keen interest in talking to random young couples about their inevitable parentage of small humans – a quality that I'm sure will become even more endearing with age.
Despite all my teasing, I don't wish for a second that we could turn back time.
The man that I married eight years ago gets better with age.
You may have earned a few extra smile lines along the way, but you also have an incredibly fulfilling life to show for it.
Sure, you may not be quite as hip as you used to think you were (though that new fluorescent yellow star wars t-shirt really gets you close). Let's face it, being younger really isn't all that it's cracked up to be either.
A decade or two ago, you could stay up late without consequence and make spontaneous decisions without a care, but life was also uncertain and unstable. You were a student of technology and Portuguese, a stage actor in London, a newly transplanted Brit on the sunny shores of California.
While these chapters held their adventures, you still hadn't quite grown into your own shoes.
As you begin your fifth decade of life, you are healthier and more at peace that ever. Youthful exuberance has been overlaid with a fine veil of tempered wisdom and patience, peppered with the ability not to take yourself so seriously.
Together we have so much to live for and so many fun adventures planned. I hope to have the privilege of sharing the golden years at your side.
Happy birthday, my love. May you celebrate many, many more.