Birthdays are exciting, especially when you hit those ‘big’ one. Remember turning ten, you were finally in double digits. Thirteen was super sweet. Sixteen meant freedom, I got my driver’s license that day and that felt amazing. When I turned eighteen I could legally by beer, I didn’t like it but I liked being able to buy it if I wanted. And then there was twenty-one – I was a complete legal adult, free to do whatever I wanted.
But it got me thinking then, what was the next exciting birthday? Well there’s… no that’s not so great. How about … nope, no real magic there. I finally decided it must be sixty-five so you could retire. Well that birthday rolled around for me yesterday. I’m already retired, but I did get to sign up for Medicare. I have to say it wasn’t as exciting as turning twenty-one, or eighteen, or sixteen or thirteen or even ten.