Is the best yet to come?
When I was a teenager I had a marked conversation with my grandfather. At that time would have been in his late sixties or seventies, my grandfather was an amazing man that I admired greatly. He helped shape who I am (sometimes in unconventional ways) and always took the time to talk with me. He was a good man who worked hard, was a successful entrepreneur and enjoyed his life.
I had asked him what period of time in his life was he the happiest, and with the brief pause he answered his fifties.
Being young I had absolutely expected him to say his twenties. When I pressed him further, he explained to me that in his fifties his kids had grown up, they were in college and doing well. The business he had started with his partner was on solid ground, he was in relatively good health and had the time and money to do what he wanted.
This conversation stuck with me immediately and tightly for over 20 years, even though I still don’t feel I can wholly define its depth. Despite the new morning ritual middle age has gifted me of listing of what body parts ache as I totter out of bed, I take away from our conversation is hope. There is reassurance to the thought that being 50 isn’t the end of something. It was the happiest period of my grandfather’s lucky, outstanding, fun life.
I am not at the same place at 40 where my grandfather was at 50, but I am not in a dissimilar place to where he was when he was 40. I am hopeful that with diligent work I can earn the success I am aiming for.