Riding Into My 40’s

My over-riding feeling on turning 40 was that it was just another day, so arrangements for the moments leading up to and including my birthday were low-key and casual (even if there was an itinerary). We drove to Boston for a long weekend, and arrived at the condo, where we set up camp for a couple of days. A quick and easy dinner at Cinquecento (to which we arrived courtesy of Andy’s new Uber skills) was followed by an early night. I needed to rest up for all the relaxation and fun that the next day would bring.

For my 40’s, I want to be more relaxed, more playful, less worried and concerned about things that don’t really matter. I want to let go of certain things, and hold onto what was always most important to me – friends and family and love and beauty. I want freedom from the constricting binds of jealousy, envy, unfairness, injustice, and hatred. I want redemption from the past – from the hurt and pain and heartache that accompany most of our journeys to 40. Mostly, though, I just want to have more fun. I don’t ever really allow myself to do that. Something is always holding me back.

For the last weekend of my 30’s, I relaxed into a few days of celebratory ease, and it began with a wonderful visit to Etant Spa in the South End. I’ve gone there for a massage before, and it is always a luxurious treat. A massage is more than mere self-indulgence: it provides a bit of nourishment for the soul, a blissfully tranquil state of perfect relaxation. That has always done more for my health and well-being than exercise or healthy eating ever could.

Having a massage early on in this long weekend provided the best point of entry for the proceedings. Everything that followed was tinged with the sweet shadings of a lighter touch, the removal of daily work concerns or home tasks, and a reinvigorated state of being. The eyes opened up to play then, and everything felt more alive. An art installation I might otherwise have overlooked, and certainly not have jumped on, called to me.

Entitled “inMotion: Memories of Invented Play” by Amy Archambault, it was a fitting embodiment of what I wanted to do as I entered my 40’s.

A dinner at Douzo was next. The last days of my life as a thirtysomething were coming to a close. Quietly. Happily. Contentedly.

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