When my dad turned 30, we had a big party at my Nanny’s house. It may have been a surprise party, I don’t remember. I do remember the phrase “over the hill” written on napkins and black balloons. I think there may have been black jellybeans- which my dad just so happens to actually like. Not quite six, I remember being perplexed by the phrase, “over the hill.” The natural worrier in me wondered what happened on the other side of that hill.
I thought of this as I turned thirty myself, almost six years ago. Was I now over the hill too?
I suppose I’m still grappling with the phrase today. Are we ever really over the hill? Isn’t each day filled with peaks and valleys? Ups and downs at every turn?
Tomorrow, my dad turns sixty and that has me wondering where he is on that old hill now.
My wish for him is that, by now, he’s at the top of a really lovely hill, ready to begin coasting, taking in the view and everything beautiful along the way. He deserves that.
Happy birthday to the greatest guy I know. So great, in fact, everyone wants to be him…Here are some of his grand kids doing their best Poppy impersonations: