For which I am blessed.

I don’t know how one is supposed to feel. At age 83. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. Guess I’m finding out. Like it or not. The good news. I’m not feeling bad. Still very much alive. I can take it. With relish. Though I’m not the same guy. That I was. Forty years ago. Though I’m not sure. That I would want to be. I’m satisfied. Being. At 83. Beats the alternative. That’s for sure. I keep telling myself. Take life a day at a time. Find reason to savor. Something. Do what you want to do. Such as writing. Musing. Pondering. Reflecting. Philosophically. And otherwise. Suppose it wouldn’t matter. If I dropped dead tomorrow. I’d check out. Having had a reasonably fulfilling life. Hard to define fulfilling. Maybe that’s just as well. I always want more. Of everything that’s good. Such as the spiritual life. That gives me more flexibility and less pain and anguish than physical existence. If I’ve learned anything, it’s to appreciate my spiritual side. Could be. It’s all in my imagination. But hey, it feels real. For which I am blessed. --Jim Broede