Turns out sixty is wonderful

I stepped into the most gorgeous energy on Earth.

The morning after 60 was sleepy and gradual. Enjoying slow coffee under poofy blankets with the dogs, I began my crone years with ease, jumped in a refreshing shower, then put on comfy clothes.

“What is this?” my wife 🖐 asked with a sassy smile, gesturing to my rumpled, cotton, flowy pants while I adjusted the drawstring.

Pants. Too wrinkled?

She nodded. Our best friend 💀¹ backed her up. Trusting their input that I looked like a hobo (which they said simultaneously), I walked back to the closet.

How about this? I held up a similar pair in a different color (also wrinkled).

“Um, do you have anything that doesn’t look like pajamas?” I think I rolled my eyes. I meant to, anyway. My thoughts went playfully to I’ve been 60 for about 36 hours and I wonder at which point my old-lady-loves-comfy-clothes feelings will be considered? (I may have said that out loud, also.)

In the end, I put on a faded blue shirt, soft gray pants, and coral pink shoes. (Looking back, I am glad that I changed outfits.) Off we went for an early evening wine flight at the nearby wine shop. I entered the shop and turned to the tasting room and — in a slow motion not even slightly poised and utterly gobsmacked way — I stepped into the most gorgeous energy on Earth: a joyous, enthusiastic space filled with people that I adore and who travelled long distances to fill this surprise with love.

Gobsmacked.

The surprise party had been in motion for a YEAR, and I had no idea. I’m told that 🖐 had sworn everyone to secrecy and listed out some consequences for spilling the beans.

Timeline for readers: Surprise party was on Saturday. The actual birthday was on the day prior, Friday, described below. Get ready.

I had requested an all day Champagne birthday to honor the 60 milestone. That was the requested perfect day … time together with Champagne and a nice fire … outside if the weather was pleasant (it was not) or in front of the fireplace.

After a morning of gifts, I was handed a glass of vintage, French fabulousness served in a crystal flute from our wedding. A video began to play. I thought we would be watching Star Wars (our winter holiday routine). Instead, onscreen I saw my wife 🖐 in our backyard speaking with emotion and revealing that 60 called for fanfare.

I started clapping. Enthusiastic clapping. And squealing combined with giggling (so I’m told).

Over the next hour I watched my dearest people share messages from their hearts. Some recounted the positive impact my friendship had on their lives. A few offered advice on aging. Others shared memories of past adventures with delight and affection. And some were just plain weird. (You know who you are.)

I saw myself through the eyes of people I love, respect, and admire. I felt seen like never before.

My subway-map-reading face is ready to navigate my 60th year. Tokyo 2004.

The experience gave shape to a gift that I had no idea that I needed: assurance (wrapped in acceptance). Assurance that I am on the right path and I have been on this right path the whole time with an incredible group of people. People who show up. People who remind me that I can lean on them when I need support. Acceptance of myself and the choices that brought me to these relationships and the emotional safety that we share.

Today and every day, I feel the bond of being with my people in a room vibrating with joy, acceptance, and enough love to last another 60 lifetimes. I am intensely grateful.

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1. Also known as the person who gave us a concrete 💀 skull to display in our fire pit (more on this another time).