Stories, observations, random musings, and unsolicited advice from a former executive who ran away from the corporate rat race to redefine her life.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Yesterday, I turned 55 years old. I was born in 1955. Interesting coincidence. Kind of like one of those 10-10-10 things.
I don’t know anything about numerology, but 55 seems like a solid, responsible number. As a speed limit, it’s safe and reserved (compared to high speeds of 65 or 75). As an age, I have crossed into a different, older demographic. I was smugly in the 45-54 range, now I will have to choose the 55-64 group when responding to surveys. Did I just become statistically less relevant? Pfooey.
According to some Christians, the number 5 has Biblical meaning. It is associated with grace and redemption. Then 55 should be doubly good, right? I also read that the rosary of the Virgin Mary was made up of 55 grains.
To me, age is just a number. But having a birthday does make you take stock of where you are in your life. I am more than satisfied. Last night, Ron and I talked about how fortunate we have been. Twenty years ago we couldn’t even have visualized our lives today. Some things work out as planned, and for other developments you must go with the flow – even just survive.
It’s hard to believe that we have been retired for two and a half years. Cancer and corporate stress are behind me. I look ahead to a life of fellowship and grace. Maybe 55 is the gateway to a new chapter for me.