December 3, 2017, Prescott-
My readership is fairly tired of me right now, so maybe this outlandish title will be a coup de gras. Let me explain further, though.
Last weekend, my best friend and I were discussing the concept of aging. I am a Baker’s Dozen years her senior, so the notion she raised- that humans could live to, let’s just say for now, well over 100, as a matter of course, is mentioned in the Bible.
I lost another friend, early this morning, who was 83. By the same token, I have lost friends who were 13, 18, 22, 37, 38 and 62, among many others. My Mom’s first employer was 105, when the Call came. It’s a most individual state of affairs.
I have a few, perhaps presumptuous, notions about my own future. So, I am quietly formulating plans for the next 33 years, putting me exactly at 100, when those plans are up. It’d be nice to share a lot of that time with BF, even given that we are both highly independent creatures, and are not co-dependent. It’d also be nice to be absolutely of service to my family and to the wider community, again not being on top of either. I am a human, not a drone or helicopter.
You know it, readership! Trails and travel will always beckon, whether with my dear friend, with others in a group or alone. Health and harmonious living, whether in my own place or in an intentional community, is the foundation of these plans. Earning my way will never be taken for granted- as the eldest of five, I am hard-wired to do my share, and to look out for those I love. That number has grown, drastically, since the days when we happily lived in a relatively small house. It was cozy and it was loving.
So, 67 is with me, for slightly less than a year. It will take me back east, twice (Late December and June), to BF’s, and other friends’ homes, whenever they need me and to various places around this beloved Southwest and thereabouts, when the call comes. It will take me to work, and hopefully, not to task. I will seek its aid, in making certain that I grow in love and that no one gets short shrift.
The “next thirty-three” doesn’t feel like such an outlandish theme, after all- if one year at a time.