To the years of my life.

Thirty-nine of you have come and gone in my life, and I've loved every single one for very different reasons. You've never failed to delight and surprise with the gifts you bring. Recently you've brough adventure and change, in ways I would never have imagined.

You've quietly and determinedly plodded on, regardless of the situations I've been facing. Sometimes I've hated you for bringing about the end of fun times, but alas I'm also wise enough to know that you subliminally ease pain with patience. Together, we've known plenty of both. You've also inadvertantly taught me that it's quite normal to know both, and I should thank you for that.

You are, however, somewhat of an oddity; from a distance, I'll admit, you seem really scary. But as each new one of you draws closer, the experiences gained from having more of you around, become intrinsically invaluable. You teach, I learn.

You always arrive with a certain excitement that life holds something great, as yet undiscovered. A never-ending treasure hunt, if you will. If I could wish for one thing on this birthday, I would wish you always arrive with that gift.

Number 40, I salute you. Welcome to my life. I'm happy to report that you are nothing like I thought you'd be. I've often thought of you and wondered how it would be when you arrive. But you feel no different to, say 16 or 24. Unexpected sensation, but very welcome; I couldn't have been more wrong about you. Together with the rest of your decade, I anticipate that we'll reach dizzy new heights of wisdom, knowledge and understanding. Let's hope the best is yet to come!