Tuesday: The Years to Come

When one is six, it seems the next hour will never come. When you are twelve it seems that the next day will never come. When you are sixteen you wonder if Friday night will ever arrive. When you are twenty-one, it seems that everything and every moment you live is a harbinger of your future. When you are thirty-five, you begin to recognize that time is moving a bit faster. At fifty, you wonder if you are still climbing up the hill and time is pushing you up further or are you at the pentacle of your life and it will unceremoniously push you over the edge. At sixty, you hope and pray that time slows down. At seventy, you realize that the years to come are not going to be as full of possibilities as those that have passed. At about 80, you sort of sigh and wonder where all the time has gone. And at 90, you wonder will there be days, months or years to come.


While we use time to mark our journey through life, our perceptions change over the years. As I would take care of my mother (Life with Mother: A Journey of Love, Death and Rebirth) when she entered her mid-nineties she said that she was going to live to a hundred. She started to say she was 95 and ½ and then 96 and ½ and 98 and ½ than she began to say that she was going on one hundred. She had a dream that she would be a Shmucker Jelly Jar Pen Up on one of the morning TV shows. She never made it.


In the years to come, I will follow the example of my mother. I will survive the bad times and I will enjoy the good. I will hope that when I die that I had more good than bad. At sixty one and ½ I have realized that life is short. One has to think fast.

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