Saturday, July 13, 2019

March of Time

It's my older kid's 21st birthday today. And my father-in-law's 77th birthday. Someone who is not mathematically inclined (which is fine) will not point out (which is fine) this morning that today is the beginning of the last 47 days of our lives when neither of us is 60 fucking years old. That we got here is remarkable, as serendipitous as (if more complex than) the random and joyful afternoon farm market meeting he referenced last week; the number of opportunities we've dodged, together and separately, to not get here, simply staggering. And those spread over 50 fucking years, almost 85 percent of our fucking lives. Pretty fucking lucky to be able to say that about anyone, ever. Go in peace.

1 comment:

Jim H. said...

Sixty is a state of mind. It's also when your body begins to deteriorate. Slowly, inexorably, taking your mind and mental capacities along with it for the ride. That being said, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!