You never thought you’d be alone this far down the line
And I know what’s been on your mind
You’re afraid it’s all been wasted time
It’s part of the haunting Don Henley vocal from Wasted Time, one of the best songs the Eagles ever recorded. It’s been circling my head for a little while, as these things invariably do.
So I turned forty today. Forty. Life begins now, doesn’t it? People are right – it doesn’t hurt, at least, not physically, but there are emotional pains that go along with it that I can’t run away from. A decade ago I was a much happier person. I was probably a better person as well. Looking back, my thirtieth birthday was probably the best one I have ever had, or am likely to have. This is not to say that getting older means getting worse, because a decade before that – when I turned twenty – I wasn’t in a particularly good space either. So perhaps it alternates, and hitting fifty will be pleasant.
Or perhaps all this is arbitrary.