Today, I turn 70 and I’m happy. To be truthful, as much relieved as happy, perhaps more so.
Fifteen years ago I was sure the end was near, I was miserable in many ways, a damaged lower back which surgery didn’t cure, lousy osteoarthritis in the right hip, a mild stroke, and frequent and sustained bouts of depression where I went for days without speaking to anyone. On a few occasions I did think about a self-induced end but fought off the thought each time by telling myself how selfish it would be and how unfair to those close to me.
Then a recovery of sorts, a more positive outlook and disposition, a new calm, a new tolerance of self and of others and the understanding that the heart must rule. Fifteen years on, I’m still here.
I don’t travel these days, only in my mind. I still walk in…
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