Fifty-Eight and Figuring It Out

I just turned 58.

Not one of the flashy birthdays — no big party theme, no sparkly “fabulous at 50” banners, and not yet the big 6-0. Just… 58. It’s one of those years that quietly sneaks up and whispers, “Hey, have you thought about the future lately?”

And yes, I have. Sometimes with curiosity, sometimes with a sense of panic. Aging is weird — part terrifying, part liberating. My body occasionally makes sounds that weren’t in the original user manual, but my mind? She’s sharper, calmer, wiser… and far less interested in nonsense.

I used to live for the milestones — the "when I .... (fill in the blank) .. this will happen" days. But here’s the secret they don’t put on the greeting cards: the real living happens in between the milestones. In the random Tuesdays, the quiet mornings, the average kind of days.

So this year, I’m skipping the countdowns and celebrating the now.

Because 58 may not be a milestone, but it sure feels like a moment — and that’s enough for me.