About living and loving.

I'm thinking how vulnerable I am. At age 76. I'm pretty much alone. I have to rely on myself. In other words, if something happens to me, I'm vulnerable. Let's say I become incapacitated. Because of ill health. A heart attack. A stroke. Dementia. And it's all complicated because I live alone. Nobody to really take care of me. Other than professionals. Hired care-givers. I'm all right as long as I can maintain my independence. A reasonable degree of mental and physical health. I suppose if I had to, I could still hold a 40-hour-a-week job. Maybe not the same kind of job I had when I was 20 or 30 years younger. The good thing is that I can support myself in retirement. With my retirement income. With social security. With a pension. As long as I can stay healthy enough to take care of myself. But it's only a matter of time before I become dependent. Or I just drop dead. Die. It could happen any time. And the older I become, the more likely that it's gonna happen tomorrow or next week or next month or next year. People don't last forever. And whatever happens, happens. And I have to accept it. And handle the situation the best I can. Right now, I do it by living one day at a time. Knowing full well that I may not be planning adequately for the future. Who does? Because nobody is guaranteed tomorrow. All the more reason to savor today. And that's what I'm doing. At this precise moment. Not in exactly the way I'd like to. Because I am momentarily thinking about tomorrow. Even though I'm in the now. In today. This may sound discouraging. Or downbeat. But for the moment, I'm recognizing the future. And acknowledging that I'm running out of time. And trying to not let it get me down. The fact that some day I won't have a future. I'll be dead and gone. I suppose the good thing about that is that I won't have to worry any more about the future. I'll be at the point where I started. Non-existent. Although, I'm free to sooth myself by imagining a spiritual life. A life in another dimension. Beyond my full grasp. My imagination is my salvation. Knowing full well that it's a form of self-deception. A way to keep myself alive and functioning. And I do it by writing. By thinking. By digging deep into my being. My soul, so to speak. I know what I'm doing. At the moment. A week from now I'll board a plane. And fly to Sardinia. To spend several months with my Italian true love. I'll be in Paradise, of sorts. Living life one day at a time. In love. With someone. With life. I'll walk along the most beautiful beaches in the world. I'll amble through quaint little villages. And the countryside. I'll sit down at a computer. And write. My thoughts. About living and loving. --Jim Broede