40

I asked my wife this morning--"Love, knowing how you feel about the ones with the nines, are you okay being 40?"

"Yes," she said, albeit a bit dubiously.

"Do you remember how you felt when you turned 30?"

"Great," she replied. "Thirty means you're an adult."

"And 40 means...?"

"You're...middle aged."

I got to thinking about that term, "middle age". It's usually spoken of with some trepidation by those people staring into it. I don't think it should be.

I mean, granted, "age" might as well be a four letter word in this society--anything not dated today is, well, dated--but middle? That's a good word to pair up with age, if you ask me. It's a Goldilocks and the Three Bears kind of phrase. Not too young, not too old...just right.

But if you try to apply that term to my wife, it won't stick. Because Eva is and always has been a catalogue for the ages. She has the heart of a child and the soul of Methuselah; the curiosity of a newborn and the rebelliousness of a teenager; the drive of a woman half her age and the wisdom of a woman twice her age. She's been all of these things for a good fifteen years now and most of them for much longer...I don't foresee any of this changing just because her odometer rolled over today.

Age is just a number, being 40's no big deal

They say a woman's only as old as she says she feels.

Forget the cliches, love, and attend to what I say:

You're young...and old...and middle-aged...and I love you that way.

You stand convention on its head and tie my brain in knots

But every day I recognize the treasure that I've got

You embrace every perspective and you shine both night and day

You're young...and old...and middle-aged...and I love you that way.

Eternal youth burns in you with the fire of old age

You have the patience of a saint, the wisdom of a sage.

No calendar can harm you, and no date your years betray:

You're young...and old...and middle-aged...and I love you that way.

I can't imagine sharing life with someone who's not you

For you're the very soul of Life in all you say and do

And whatever we throw at ourselves as we grow old and grey,

You're Eva Breadner, my own wife...and I love you that way.

Happy 40th birthday, love.