Heading to the Real Millennium
At age 54, I could call myself middle-aged, except I can’t reasonably expect to live to age 110. So does that mean I’m old? It can?t be true!
I do find that I?m in an interesting state of mind. I no longer focus on the future, the way I did for most of my life. I don’t mean that I don’t look forward to things; it?s just that the future is no longer an unwritten book. It’s more of an unfinished book, with the beginning and middle already in place. Before, life was always about tomorrow, when I’d be rich, famous, happy, speak fluent French and play the piano.
But I’ve recently realized that the future doesn’t look as rosy as it once did, since it will inevitably bring with it sickness, loss and death.
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