My Fiftieth Reckoning

There are two days in the year that we reckon with ourselves. Two days in which we take stock. Take measure. Those two days are New Years Day, and Birthdays. And what bigger reckoning can one have than on their fiftieth birthday? Half a century has gone by, and what have we done with all that time?

I look back and count the good things: my wife, our daughter, our comfortable life together. I consider my haphazard career, and how it has offered a steady livelihood. I remember all those things I pursued, my so-called hobbies, some of which have faded away, replaced by other things to pass the time. I don't know if I have the energy to try new things, but I know I have enough energy to pursue the things that I like.

I think fondly about the people that I've met, across fifty years of living. Some have reached out to me in their own fiftieth year, perhaps to reconstruct or remember a past that we had shared. Many others just remain memories, acquaintances, brief connections that I still remember because remembering feels good. I'm less worried about people forgetting me: perhaps I've forgotten them!

I'd like the remaining years to be happy, but I'd also like it to be kinder, gentler, and less about striving. If life is a mountain to climb, then the mountain is infinitely tall. There's always another peak to chase, and I admit that I'm not as interested to see the view from higher up. I think the view I have now is fine.