I am 41.
When I was younger I never imagined or planned my life after 40. It's not that I didn't think I'd ever live that long, it's just that I didn't think much would happen after 40.
I thought by 40 I would have my husband and my children. I thought that I would be done with school and my career would be in full swing.
I thought I would be living in my dream home and everything would be perfect. And I wouldn't have much else to do or think about.
Some of that has happened and some hasn't. But I find myself at 41 wondering what the other half of my life is going to be like.
I find myself excited and sad that in nine years I will be an empty nester.
I find myself happy that I picked the right guy to share another 40 years or more with.
I find myself very content that I finished my bachelor's degree and don't have any desire to go back to school.
I find that my career as an editor wasn't what I wanted and that being a writer is harder than I thought. And I don't really know what I want to be when I grow up, except happy.
I find that my dream home is where my heart is. And my family is my heart.
And I find that I really like my forties.