Two years ago today, I stood at the base of Freedom Tower in New York. I looked up – way up – to locate the top of the tower’s 1,776 feet. I couldn’t totally tell where One World Trade Center ends and the sky begins. But I remember fighting off vertigo and noting the metaphor:
When you turn 40 everyone gives you grim reaper greeting cards and tells you it’s all downhill. What they don’t tell you is downhill has an upside. It’s easier to swing a wrecking ball on the way down. Walking on eggshells in “relationships”? Wrecking ball. Limping along with the same tired parenting patterns? Wrecking ball.
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