When I was 22 I felt invincible. Like nothing could touch me or so I thought. The distress of my youth had melted away and once again I was as carefree as when I was a child. How you felt I can only guess. Less than awesome I suppose. A lifetime of lovely memories and hard times informed you, but never dimmed your disposition. You were 89 and felt painfully mortal even if you were godly to those who knew you and loved you. I was in the springtime of my youth hungover with the overflowing spirits of life and art and love. It was a Sunday like any other for you, but in the winter of life a sun was rising for the last time in your deep hazel eyes. I was enjoying the aftermath of an orgy for the senses, echoes resonating deep in the recesses of my mind. You were enjoying your typical morning ritual of black coffee and a good book. We were both unaware of what was coming next for either one of us. And as you slipped out of your chair and your book fell to the ...
The further adventures of a well-lived life explored.