40 Is More Than 20 with experience, and I'm So Not 20 Anymore!!!

I got a call from "her" today.  We all have a "her."  She's that woman you know that either has what you want, or could with the curl of her finger get it.  And to make matters worse, she's 20 something and leaps and bounds ahead of where I was at her age.

It's been an interesting week, as I try to absorb the fact that in a few days I am going to be one of the scariest things a woman can be, "Single, Childless, Renting. . . and 40."  No matter how you feel about turning 40 you can't help but find yourself assessing and reassessing the life that you are living and the things that you have acquired or wish you had.  I can't help but wonder about those elusive goals that I continue to wish to complete, and the ones that got away.

There are things that you are forced to admit won't work out, and the things that you are forced to admit you no longer have the will to fight for; either because they're no longer worth your effort, or you've just come to that place where your heart can no longer deal with the pain that comes with the war you're waging for the sake of having them.  I am there with more items than I can list; and one of those items is "him."  Maybe I'm finally a grownup, but for the last couple of weeks as I've inched closer to "that" day I have tried, and failed miserably, to not think of him.  I've tried, to not think about what could have been if. . . and I've tried to not think about her, the woman he would give anything to be with, and who already got more out of her short time with him than I could manage in the three years that I kept him in my life.

As I struggle with everything; life, love, beauty, accomplishment, faith and most importantly the future, I push forward and hopefully unlike Lot's wife, look back without the detrimental consequences.  I question everything and wonder what road I might take if I had the chance to do it all again; if I were 20 again.

So as my personal debate wages on, the phone rings and it's her.  She just needs trivial help with a project for her new job and I'm the one that answers the phone.  She's carefree and happy and obviously focused on the moment.  As we hang up and I wish her well and tell her it'll be good to see her in the future, my heart aches a little.  She has an air of freedom that comes with this time in her life; and I can't help but admit to myself that for all the options that lay ahead I'm just not 20 anymore. . . and it matters more than it ever did before.