Welcome to Week 40!
Welcome to Week 40!
Certain numbers arouse curiosity. I have always wondered about the special significance of the number 40, across different cultures and geographies.
- Why 40 days of mourning in Islam?
- Why 40 days of fasting and prayer in Lent?
- Why 40 winks of sleep?
- Why 40 minutes of walking?
- Why 40 days of rest after childbirth in India?
- Why the fortieth birthday as a celebration of midlife?
- Why the depression at turning 40?
Maybe, it takes that much time for a change to get entrenched in the system, and become effective.
Write anything – poem, prose, rant, memory, anecdote, reflection, wild thoughts – which includes the number 40.
Look forward to my weekly peep into your brilliant minds…
LAST WEEK’S ROUNDUP
Lady Lee Manila at
Reena Saxena at
Forty. How had he gotten this damn old? Forty wasn’t the milestone for him as it was for others. His milestone had been thirty. That had been a rough day. Didn’t help that he’d just split from his wife and was living a city away, forty nights on the couch because he didn’t want to sleep in the bed alone.
He’d promised his kids he’d never leave them and he’d broken that promise. Didn’t matter that he didn’t want to break the promise. They were too young to understand. Or care. All they knew was Daddy left again. Ten-forty gone.
He’d never been cut out for fatherhood. The kids weren’t his by biology. Kids of a former girlfriend who, in her will, named him guardian. He’d almost refused, but he couldn’t let them be lost.
His life had gotten better. He was good at moving on, leaving the past behind. Wasn’t like he hadn’t had plenty of practice. Forty relationships in the past ten years.
Shit, he was really bad at relationships, wasn’t he?
Rolling over in the bed, he watched the woman beside him, soft smile touching his lips. He didn’t love her, not in the way she wanted, but he did care about her. It wasn’t enough for a long-term relationship and, now 40, he was starting to think about the future in a different way.
Where was he going to be in ten years? Twenty? He’d planned to die young. Well, not planned exactly, but dying young has seemed the most likely of situations. Still, he’d made it to forty. Why not fifty? Sixty? Eighty?
Gods, he couldn’t image eighty!
Lying back down, he closed his eyes, counted forty sheep to sleep.