Turning 62 does not bring any dramatic revelation, but it offers a quiet moment to consider how to live the “bonus years” after sixty—lightly, without unnecessary desire, and with a focus on health and continuity.
Today I turned 62.
Life flows continuously, so reaching this day does not evoke any particular feeling. Still, I have come to think that, once past sixty, life itself becomes something of a bonus. From here on, I hope to live without unnecessary desire and to extend my healthy years as much as I can.
That is the thought I held on this birthday.
Wanting to do something may itself be a form of desire, but if I think of these years as a bonus on top of a bonus, perhaps I can keep that desire in check.
Yesterday we celebrated a joint birthday—my mother’s and mine. She was born exactly one week earlier than I was.
We also had a small celebration for my son, and the dinner served as a kind of year-end gathering as well. The four of us—my wife, my mother, my son, and I—enjoyed a warm meal together.
My mother is now 87. “Sprightly” is beginning to feel like the most fitting word for her age, yet she remains remarkably healthy.
I was born when she was 25, which is neither particularly early nor late.
I once thought the age gap between parent and child was overwhelmingly large. But when a 25-fold difference becomes twice, and now nearly 1.5 times, the gap no longer feels so dramatic.
My son is also nearing half my age.
Perhaps he has begun to gain confidence in his own way; he spoke happily about the things he has been experiencing recently.
For various reasons, I ended up skipping my blog post yesterday for the first time in a while.
Since I am not competing for a “streak,” skipping once in a while is perfectly fine. Starting today, I simply hope to keep writing steadily again.
No comments:
Post a Comment