Fifty, half a hunert, half a century, silver jubilee, o’ folk, like fine wine, quinquagenarian, quintastic!, demi-centenarian. These are words that now describe my 50-year-old self. My favorite happens to be quintastic! And I quite like vintage: of high quality and lasting value. (Cambridge Dictionary)
Several years ago, when I first moved to practically the other side of the universe, a friend gave me a stack of birthday cards. I guess she wasn’t sure she’d ever see me again. Those cards have made it through two more international moves and I’m about to open the one for my 50th birthday. When she gave me this stack I began to wonder what I would be like when I turned 50, 75, 90. Yes, she gave me one for my 90th (older than dirt) birthday. I wonder how many oceans that one will cross.