Another one of my friends turn 40 this week. We celebrated her birthday with a girls night of dinner and dancing a couple weeks ago and then again last night at her house with our husbands.

I have to say that 40 is the new 30 or even 25. My own mother, at 40, was mother of the bride, a title I don’t wish to have for another 15 years. My friends are still young, in shape, confident and strong. They are wonderful mothers, wives and friends and would do anything for you. These women have found a way to have a career they love and still attend every game, concert and school event. They are all still married to the father of their children; men who love, support and respect them.

We have spent so many evenings together with this group over the years, both with and without our children. We have laughed until we cried over stories of our families, games we played and the dance moves of our husbands or children. We support each other during difficult times and lend each other a shoulder to cry on. We have borrowed food, clothes, tools, tables and babysitters. We have looked after each others’ children, pets, homes, and lawns. We have all come from different walks of life, yet ended up together in the same neighborhood, as if by fate. We are blessed.

Forty seemed so old 10 or 15 years ago. I wish I knew then how much I had to look forward to.