Forty is an octagonal number, and the atomic number of zirconium.
It is a unique number (in the negative) at which the Fahrenheit and Celsius scales correspond.
There were 40 days and 40 nights of rain in the Biblical flood.
Johnny Cash recorded "Forty Shades of Green," about, of course, Ireland.
Forty winks is a short nap.
Forty weeks is the average term of human gestation.
There are 40 spaces in the traditional Monopoly game board.
And forty is the first birthday in my life that I celebrate without Mom. So my celebration this year is quiet, not because I feel I ought to for Mom's sake (she'd hate that), or because I feel it's inappropriate to celebrate so soon after her death (she'd hate that even more). Rather, it's because I haven't had the energy to plan anything big and fabulous. I've been channeling what energy I do have into planning for the new school year, and helping Dad sort through Mom's things, and taking care of my most immediate needs for rest, and, yes, some solitude. School starts this week, and with it, the busy days.
So today, I am forty. Forty years old, forty years young, or just meet me right here, at forty. I work at an amazing school doing something I love, I own a home, and I am surrounded by family and friends who love and support me (including, of course, Da Boyz).
Life rolls forward.