I should add a lovely photo to temper the tone of this post, I guess, but today I've been thinking a lot about how I'm going to die. Not "how" exactly, but THAT I am going to die. And as duh as it may be to say this, I'm feeling pretty down about it. I welcome any words of hope and wisdom from you, Nonexistent Fair Reader, to help me see the beauty that is all about me and the possibilities that yet remain for me to enjoy the now, and make a positive difference in the world.
Mortality has been on my mind lately because after a few years of everyone aging without it really making a difference, now my parents and in-laws are getting to that point, and the kids are really and truly preparing to leave the nest. Maybe I should have had kids when I was younger, so all the whammies wouldn't hit at the same time. Or was I smart to do it like I do everything else, later than expected but with (usually) nice results?
They are uncommonly nice kids.
I feel old. Without even reading the words I've written, you can already see that I'm the opposite of au courant because I put two spaces after each period. That's a freaking hard habit to break, so I decided I wouldn't bother.
I'm seeing that thing in the mirror now where I catch a glimpse of my neck and it's right on the verge of slacking into old, wabbly neck-ness. Heck, it might be that way already, visible to everyone but me. I'm so old that I need a walk every day so I can move without pain in my hips the next day. (Very unfair for a generally lazy person such as myself.) I wake up in the pre-dawn hours long before my alarm is set to go off, even though I'm still tired and need more sleep.
At the moment, I should be out on my lunchtime walk, but today seemed like the right day to start this thing up again. I don't even know if it's up and running, or if anyone can read it but me. What I know is that it feels good to write. What's next?
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