Life. Without regrets.

Like it or not. I'm altering my thinking. As I get older. Hard to believe that I’ve become an octogenarian. Imagine that. Still alive and kicking. Physically and mentally. But recognizing that time is running out. Chances of reaching 90. Are slim. When you’re 83. You notice. Lots and lots of people are dying. Younger than you. Sure, a few make it to 90. Even 100. Just read an obituary the other day. Of the oldest World War II veteran. Dying at 112. My gawd. I don’t want to live that long. I’m destined to die. In my 80s. Still, I call myself lucky. Even if I drop dead tomorrow. I’m blessed. To have come this far. And now I have to decide on how to handle it. Without worrying myself to death. In other words, maximizing the time that’s left. Each day becomes more precious. I ponder stuff like this. When I was a young whippersnapper. Automatically assuming. There would be a tomorrows. Now I’m not so sure anymore. Gives me pause to make the most. Of every day. Savoring. Savoring. The gift of life. And hey, if this is all there is. That’s life. Without regrets. --Jim Broede