Old

Rejoice in getting old. The days grow brighter and the nights become longer but shorter than the days. Things don’t get much harder, nor do they get easier. Rejoice in getting old. As the sugar is sweeter and the kisses more tender. Getting old should not come with signs of grief. It should be lived and experienced for all. It brings the wine and cheese to the party, the crackle of the fire with a book, a walk with your years of matrimony and trust and sacrifice. After you’ve gained so much – it all compounds over time – you notice different things, see things in different ways. If you reflect, you realize how much you’ve changed, grown, matured, whatever. And see your story played out, good or bad, doesn’t matter. See how it made you the person you are today… old.

All this, and it never stops. You never stop getting old. Tomorrow or the next day or the day after that – it is a continuous cycle along the clock of the cosmos. Sending you deeper into oblivion, as all the other stuff is too familiar. Great, good, bad, horrible, loving, kind, inspiring, heartbreaking, giving, but overall, familiar. So each day is a discovery, forward into something new, every day, whether you notice or not. But perhaps I speak too freely. Perhaps I speak about nothing at all. Perhaps you don’t hear me. Perhaps we’re just all too small. In a bubble of space. Getting older by the minute. Joyously, lovingly, harshly, willingly, acceptingly going into the unknown. Boy, I can’t wait to get old.

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