Years ago,I was walking down a dusty alley, hands in my suspenders,when i happened to look to the wall to my right and captured pieces of a broken, tarnished mirror,almost camouflaged by graffiti. The reflection was blurry but i could still recognize the wrinkled forehead,a hand quickly clasped over my lips in disbelief i was 70 years old and i wouldn’t know it,if i hadn’t seen this mirror.
Back home i made it a habit of not slowing down and grasp vanity but to live, explored the world,danced, wrote,filled empty bellies,made people laugh and smile by doing or saying something funny. I ate healthy because i wanted to see my great grand children, i wanted to walk Shelby down the aisle i wanted to paint and take photos of the wedding and photos of the rain as it fell off the rims of my cow boy hat.
I started to smile at this wrinkled fellow as i remembered these good times,i truly lived and i didn’t just exist, i brushed some dust off my forehead and continued walking, i was headed towards my best friends funeral..with comfort knowing that one day it will be my turn i will have no regrets.
Life as an old man..in my perspective