The Fat Fact of Forty

Youth has nothing on wisdom?

Here I am, having survived the turning of the arbitrary clock into what was my 40th year. Becoming 40 was traumatic but being 40 is freedom, if freedom is an excuse. Why did I have to wait so long to let myself be me? 40 was permission, 40 was validation, 40 was a soft comfy chair at the end of a long day. So here I sit in my 40 and there are wrinkles around my eyes and mouth when I smile at the satisfaction of coming to rest.