I'm a billionaire.

I'm a billionaire.

Actually, I'm about to become a 1.42 billionaire.

I know. Kind of a big deal.

Monday I'll turn 45 years old for the first time. As I've tried to wrap my head around that milestone, I've found myself slowing down and seeing there's a bigger picture.

I've been looking at wealth all wrong.

A million and a billion are numbers we throw around pretty casually. A million dollars is a lot of money. A billion dollars is... well, an ass ton lot more money. Obviously. But I don't think our brains really comprehend just how much more.

Money doesn't help me understand it.

Time does.

One million seconds is about 11 and a half days.

One billion seconds is nearly 32 years.

That's a ridiculous difference.

And somewhere in playing with that math, I realized something I hadn't considered before.

I'm a billionaire.

By the time I turn 45 on Monday, I will have lived approximately 1.42 billion seconds.

I like saying that.

Forty-five sounds a little heavier than I'd like it to right now... but a 1.42 billionaire, though? That has a much better ring to it.

The funny thing is, I'm not so special.

You're likely a billionaire too.

If you've made it a little past 31 years old, congratulations. Welcome to the club. At 50, you're somewhere around a 1.58 billionaire. Make it to 70 and you've crossed 2.2 billion.

It levels the playing field in a strange way.

There are people with financial wealth I can't begin to comprehend. Private jets, yachts, homes around the world. There are people who can spend more money over lunch than I'll make this year.

But their Tuesday has 86,400 seconds in it.

So does mine.

Money can buy a lot of things. Apparently, it can't buy a longer Tuesday.

I've been thinking about this more than usual because today is August 28.

My Grampa left us on August 28 at 70 years old—a 2.2 billionaire.

Today marks another year since his account received the last of his 2.2 billion seconds.

I like that thought more than I expected to.

Not the last part, obviously. The wealth.

Because when I think about GP, I realize I inherited some of his wealth.

I didn't inherit his seconds. Those belonged to him. He got his 2.2 billion and spent every one of them.

But how he spent them affected how I'm spending mine.

Some of his time was spent with me. Some was spent teaching me things he probably didn't know he was teaching me. Some of it became stories. Habits. Standards. Memories.

Little pieces of a person that somehow kept earning interest long after the original investment was made.

That's a pretty incredible return.

And maybe there's some compounding happening too.

Because some of what GP invested in me has found its way into how I spend my time with other people. Things he taught me get passed along. Standards he held became standards I hold. A few of his seconds became part of me, and pieces of those have probably made their way into people he'll never meet.

I don't know how you'd calculate the return on something like that.

Maybe you can't.

But I like knowing the investment is still paying dividends.

It also has me looking differently at my own 1.42 billion.

We spend our seconds constantly. There's no real savings account for them. I can't decide that today was busy, stash away three unused hours and pull them back out next summer.

They arrive.

I use them.

More arrive.

... hopefully.

I've traded a lot of mine for work. I've invested an enormous amount in my family. I've pissed away plenty. I've worried with some. Laughed through others. I've given seconds to people who deserved far more and probably given far too many to things that deserved absolutely zero.

Some investments paid off immediately.

Others took years before I understood what they gave me.

And I'm sure there are millions of seconds I still don't know how to account for.

Maybe that's part of being wealthy.

Monday I'll turn 45... 

A one point four two billion—baller!

I'd love Father Time to grant me another 1.42 billion.

That would put me somewhere around 90 years old, and I'd consider that one hell of a return. I don't know if I'll get them. None of us know what remains in the account.

GP got about 2.2 billion... and I'm grateful for every second of his that overlapped with mine.

As the billions trickle down, a heartbeat at a time, I'm increasingly aware of what his investment left behind.

So yeah... 

I'm a billionaire.

Turns out, there are a lot of us.

And if you made it all the way down here, you just spent a few hundred of your seconds with me.

That's not lost on me.

Thank you for the investment. :)