I was going to title this post "On Death and Dying" but that just sounded so gloomy. I realized that this isn't about death or dying, but about living and how much more there is to do.
I have very few memories of my childhood. Some say that I have blocked them out because it's easier to handle not remembering. Still, it's weird to listen to others talk vividly about their childhood when I have some random and odd memories.
As a very young child I have a memory of realizing how quickly it seemed life was passing. In the blink of an eye I was 6 or 7 or 8. I really can’t remember how old I was. And it scared me how quickly I had gotten to be that age. Then something changed and I didn’t think about that anymore…until recently.
I just had a birthday this month. I realized that I am 44 years old and that about half my life was gone. Again, I began to worry about it. Forty-four years had gone by so quickly. How did that happen? Then again I realized that maybe it wasn’t quite so quick and that I probably have another 44 years in me. My family, for the most part, live long and fairly healthy lives.
I have no plans to go anywhere. I waited a long time for my daughter (due to lack of sperm and fertility issues once the sperm, ahem, man came into my life). I am going to see her grow up, get married and have kids. I am going to be the coolest grandma ever. Yes, I'm going to stick around for a long, long time.
So here's to another 44 years and who knows, maybe I’ve got more than that!
Pressed Leaf Star Garland
7 months ago