What a fabulous poem and post. What is beginning to strike me at the phase of life I'm in now (54) is that everything in life has its season. Many of the things we waste time fearing we learn to accept when the time comes. Middle-age can be so strange—you begin to feel as though certain aspects of modern society are a bit foreign but you still feel like you're young inside. Sometimes the reflection staring back at you in the mirror isn't the one you remember or expect to see.

I didn't think much about mortality until the pandemic forcefully thrust it into all of our lives. I was very lucky up until that point not to really to be touched much by it. Now, in this middle-phase of life, the physical/mental decline of older relatives (and even some friends) serve as a constant reminder of how short and precious our time is. This makes me more patient, and appreciate the time with the people around me. In a weird way brings me to a place of a little more acceptance about my own mortality and just wanting to squeeze the most out of the years I have left. Still, sometimes, when I do the math, it's just surreal to think I only have a few decades left considering how quickly the past thirty years have gone.

I used to think more about legacy when I was younger but now it just seems pointless and even narcissistic. The most we can do is enjoy each moment and the thought of that gets real in your fifties.

It reminds me of this song.....