Rock’n’Roll on 53!
So, yesterday I reached the grand old age of 52. It doesn’t sound bad when you say it quickly, but roll it around on your tongue a bit. Look at it written down. It’s some scary shit. I’m seriously into the second half century, and unless the fates are kind, there’s less left than there is consigned to history. It just seems to go by so fast. When you reach this sort of age, the ol’ reaper starts cherry-picking one or two of your number, which prompts unease, to say the least.
You might think it’s a fairly unremarkable milestone, not like 18, 21, or 50. But to me, 52 is signifcant. It is the age beyond which my Mother was not privileged to advance. In a strange way therefore, I begin to see each subsequent day henceforth as a gift. Of course, the wisest amongst us know that already. Each day really is a gift, and though we seem possessed by an unseen momentum, pushing us inexorably toward the moment of our demise, our own life experiences, the very fact we’ve been around, ironically enable us, as we get older to wring every last drop of pleasure from every waking second of every day.
I don’t dwell on mistakes and what-might-have-beens. As Miki and I often say, our individual, often torturous paths, our mistakes, right decisions, wrong decisions, have led us to this point in time – Have enabled us to be together, two perfectly matched people, a miracle really, given the odds.
So I leap into my 52nd year contented, yet not complacent, happy yet ambitious, in the certainty that I am in a better place now than I have ever been, and that the best is yet to come.