Age

When I was a kid, I did some math and figured out that, when the year 2000 arrived, I would be 53 years old. In my minds eye, I could see me at 53, long, straggly gray hair hanging over my eyes, leaning on my walker with drool on my chin. Well. today, I am 10 years older than that and still no walker (some days I wouldn't mind having one) and no drool running down my chin (except when I watch the weather with Kathy Sabine). I find myself waxing philosophical about all that has past and I still find myself looking forward with optimism at what is to come. I hope that I get to hang around a couple of more decades to see 8G phones, 4D movies and whatever else the wonderful world of technology holds. Mostly, though, I want to see my grandchildren grow up and have families of their own.

When my mother passed away, we buried her ashes in the cemetery in the small town of Van Alstyne, Texas, where my grandfather had purchased plots for all of us years ago. When the service was concluded, I looked around at the hundreds of markers in the graveyard and realized that I was related to most of the poeple interred there. At that time, I finally found some peace with the idea that, some day, I would join all of these predecessors in this final resting place, that I was not going to be an exception to the rule. I have my time and my place and I am going to enjoy every second that I am given but, when my time is over, I know that the world will keep turning and my family will continue onward. And I am OK with that.