Yesterday on the Andes tour someone asked me how old I was
Cuántos años tienes?
Veinte-tres, I say
Oh, you’re just a baby! She exclaimed with laughter
I suppose I am, in some ways
But it has occurred to me that – I have always presumed myself to be able to live to a ripe old age, perhaps exceeding my 60s (I wonder if everyone else pictures their futures as such too?) but if I were to pass on at 40+, about half my life is already over (and in a flash too!) and thinking about it makes me a little anxious because there’s still much I want to absorb, to learn, to appreciate, to do