Estimated reading time: 3 minute(s)

Every once in a while I get to noticing my age.

It might come from stiffness in some joint, or soreness in some muscle. Alternately, I might just ponder the numbers which track my cyclical journeys around the sun. (They do keep increasing…)

On some days, it’s just watching the people around me growing up. My oldest son is just over a year away from driving himself around (and right now he has us doing that many times to many places!) and my daughters will be women before I can blink.

Whatever might trigger it, I can easily be reminded that I am old.

But then I consider that my age still begins with a three. I know that’s not old. I realize there’s likely much life ahead of me, should God decide to number my days so.

My second parents are septuagenarians. My own parents are sexagenarians. And my grandparents are octogenarians. Many important people in my life are still nearly double my age, despite my sometimes feeling ‘old’.

I mean, I am barely old enough to be President, for goodness sake!

So I’ve been thinking—I’m not old, but I’m not young…

I think I’m middle aged!

That’s supposed to mean it’s time for my “crisis”, right? At some point around now I am to realize that I’m further into my life than I have remaining ahead of me. A reflective overview of what I’ve accomplished—and what I’ve not accomplished—is to set me into a spiraling tizzy, ending with the purchase of some wild vehicle, or some other wild (even scandalous) adventure.

I can’t emphasize enough how much that is not going to happen. 🙂

For me, this probably mainly stems from my lack of personal ambition or other such motivations. I’m not sure if that’s the only thing that would push someone into a mid-life crisis, but it seems to me unfulfilled expectations might do just that.

What I do know is that it’s pretty odd here in the middle.

Some days I think I want to be old. I want to fast-forward through today’s tough parts, and maybe enjoy the fun parts of being a grandpa. Perhaps enjoy the fruits of all the years lived and wisdom gained. There are certainly benefits to being aged.

But there are advantages to still being young, too. (Which I do admit, I am quickly leaving behind.) My body can still keep up with my inner athlete. Running continues to be an enjoyable activity, and I love playing sports with my older boys (who are now old enough to keep up with me!)

Youth is still part of me, but beginning to show signs of departure. Age is coming, but only still on the outskirts of my view.

I’m right in the middle, enjoying bits of both worlds.

And I hope to remember, for as long as I remain here, that this is the place I’m meant to be. Right now. Right here.

Right in the middle.