When I was younger, I thought that 40 was old. Crypt-keeper old. At death's door old. Now that I am 40, I kind of want to flip off younger me. What did I know?
Heck, what do I even know now?
I think Sandra Cisneros knows. Her story "Eleven" begins like this: "What they don't understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you're eleven, you're also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one."
Yep, when you're 40, you're also 39 and 38 and 37 and 36....and 28 and 17 and 12 and 7 and 4 and 1...and you can feel them all in there, different selves from different times, mingling -- sometimes uneasily -- to become the sum of who you are.