Other than Birds

36 years being married today.
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I remember worrying about something, 36 years ago, that foggy morning turning to sun; I remember worrying about:

What if we ran out of things to talk about.

36 years of married. 58 years and 57 years of living. Adult children of 33, 30, 25 and it strikes us that here it's time for us all to look at the will again.

I don't get time ticking by. Why? What's life for anyway? Living, growing old, children growing older. I just don't get it.


Naomi Anderson turned 111 today.

This is what she has to say when asked if her long life had been a good life?
"Yes, I guess so," she said. "As good as can be expected." She blinked and added, "I'm almost blind. I can see very little. Very little."

She took another sip of coffee. She enjoys her coffee, perhaps with a bite of something sweet.
"I just keep living, I guess," she said. "I don't know when to stop."

How annoying to be asked how does it feel and then be asked again and asked and asked each year as you get older. Why is 111 more interesting than 110? Why are 36 years any more exciting than 35 364/365ths?

I don't think it is, but we celebrate anyway.

Had a nice dinner with the 30 year old. Witty, charming, beautiful, and speaking and cooking great French...don't you think she, too, is part of celebrating the last 36? After all, she was there for a big part of it, and she was wondered about for some of it. Thinking of the 33 year old and the 25 year old.

Thinking of some other things, too.

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