Time

There is a Time in life when either we die and leave others to mourn or rejoice, or those we love die and leave us behind with our dreams that either came true, or that now have other possibilities, or that now cannot come true forever. It's neither morbid, nor melancholy, nor maudlin as in the British pronunciation of Mary Magdalen where the word got its name. It's simply the way life is, as one may neither grasp, understand, nor appreciate, until one morphs into this age. 

Is it Halloween already? All 17 and 39 inside, I have no idea how or when I donned the costume of the octogenarian who glares at me every morning as I shave his face. He doesn't seem to approve of me or to appreciate all I do for him.

Life is Good. Not all I dreamed of, but good.

If I were doing it over, would I do all the same things? An interesting question that everyone comes face to face with at some point. An irrelevant question because Time is what it is and doing it over is not part of the deal.

Life is short: have anchovy and asparagus salad for breakfast.

T