Yesterday, Feb 21, was my birthday. It wasn’t a milestone birthday. I turned 48 years old. I don’t mind getting older. It’s the strange labels they create that give me the shivers.

For example, the label “middle-age.” When you hear it you think more of a 55 – 65 year old. But, honestly, how many people live to be 110 – 130 years old? If this is the middle of my life, can I expect to live to be 96? It’s possible, there is some longevity in my family tree. My paternal great-grandmother and grand-aunt both lived well into their 100’s. Balance that with my maternal grandparents and it isn’t so rosey.

And “senior citizen.” The Merriam-Webster online dictionary simply says: an elderly person; especially : one who has retired. Well, if you manage your wealth properly you might “retire” in your 40’s. I didn’t, so I’m looking closer to the standard 65.

If you use the class divisions we had in high school (freshman, sophomore, junior, senior) and divide the average lifespan of a US woman in fourths, you get something like:

• Freshman – birth to 20
• Sophomore – 21 to 40
• Junior – 41 to 60
• Senior – 61 – 80+

I suppose the same scale could be used for labeling age with the earth’s seasons: spring, summer, autumn (fall), winter.

At any rate, I am not in my 20’s anymore. Hell, I’m not in my 30’s and I’ve almost left my 40’s. I am well into the autumn of my life. That is a humbling realization.

I don’t want to “relive” my youth. I don’t want to dance or party all night. I don’t ride my Harley for speed, I ride for enjoyment. I don’t need a Bass Tracker, my little aluminum boat does what I need. My camera didn’t cost $1,000, but I can get the photos I want. My home didn’t cost $100,000, but it keeps me dry, warm, and secure.

Although there are things I wish were different, I am mostly content with my life right now. And, judging by what I see around me, I am one of the few.