The nicest thing about being 82. Is being 82. A sign that I’ve
beat the odds. Living this long. With still a decent chance. Of living for a
few more years. My mother set the standard. Reaching 88. My father, however,
died young. At 38. But that was his free choice. Suicide. Funny thing. Dad
wanted an early out. And I want forever. Whether it be an afterlife. As a
spirit. Or by reincarnation. I’m not fussy. One or the other will do. Another
nice blessing. I was born with an imagination. Don’t know what I’d do without my
many fanciful thoughts. Anyway, I don’t know what the future holds. But nothing
stops me from dreaming. Day dreams. Night dreams. Sunny dreams. Blissful
dreams. Idyllic dreams. And my favorite. The forever dream. --Jim Broede
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