Reflections

Reflections
57 days until the big 40 occurs.
It seems strange to see that number next to my name. I don't feel 40?
Does one ever "feel" their age?
I really don't mind turning 40. It's just a number, really. However I'm finding that it's not how I feel inside that's bothering me. It's the actual number. 40.
With 40 comes the realization that you can actually look into your future and see how things are going to end up.
After 40 years of living with yourself you become familiar with your own pattern of doing things. How you analyze decisions. If you make good decisions or bad ones. Your habits, weaknesses, strengths.
Its haunting to suddenly reach an age where you can actually see (barring unforeseen upsets) where you are going to end up when you get old. Where you will be when you retire from the regular work life.
When I was younger, the future always seemed so mysterious. So open for exciting things. Wonderful things. Now the future is not so mysterious anymore. With that knowledge the innocence of "maybe someday I will do this or that or be this person or that person" (insert your personal title of wishes) gets tainted.
One can still make changes in their life. You can still redirect the path you are currently taking and end up in places you didn't expect. New places. New and exciting things can still occur. I think this is where "mid-life"crisis steps in. People realizing that they suddenly can see where they are going to end up, panic and seemingly make crazy impulsive decisions to drastically alter the present course of their lives.
Scary that I now understand that.
I've peered into my future. If I stay on present course, I will be alone living in a modest ranch house with my adult autistic son for company. I'll retire from a job that was nice and enabled me to buy the modest ranch house for my son and I to live in. I'll help my son with yard work when my knees aren't complaining too loudly. Maybe I'll have that little garden I've always dreamed about. I'll continue to putter away on my "cute" writings. Filling folders with amusing tidbits of my zany insights on things.
Gads.
Time for a fork in that dismal path.