Today marks a milestone. I am now half a century old. The years mean little enough to me: I don’t actually feel “old”.
Then again, I look at my life, and I look back to when I was younger, and I wonder: what happened? I had some dreams and plans, and none of them have come to be, really. I wanted to be living somewhere else. I wanted a certain type of lifestyle, job, safety net. I don’t have those. In some cases, I know where I went wrong… where I buckled instead of standing my ground. Can’t go back and change it now, although I can’t help but wonder “what if”. What if I had stayed with my Sailor? Moved out west after college? Gone on for a four year degree, instead of stopping at an Associate’s? If I had never gotten involved with the Loser?
I still want to travel. I am glad I got to the UK, because I love the British Isles. I want to go to New Zealand. I’d like to know what happened to my Sailor. To my pen pal, Antoinette Paul. I wish life was a little less frightening in some aspects. I wish I wasn’t on three different medications for high blood pressure, and that quitting smoking was easier.
But all in all, it hasn’t been a terrible ride.