I’m not the only one. It’s good to keep that in mind. Other things and other people happen.
So.
That being said, here — in no particular order — is the tally so far: One boy, one girl, one set of teeth (partial), one marriage, one divorce, one face, one God, one novel (partial), one degree, one cat (no ears), one head of hair, one talent, one fear, one love, one life…
Doesn’t look too bad actually. I’m not entirely convinced I deserve any of them, but you take what they give you, right?
I’ve got visible scars on face, scalp, and psyche . . . but honestly, who doesn’t these days?
I’m getting older, heavier (and yet oddly skinnier as well, how does that work?), nicer, and happier.
Omnia mutantur, nihil interit.
So far, so good.
I’ll keep it up as long as they let me. But I’m not greedy. I’d settle for another nine hundred years and change, taking the good and bad as it comes.
Thirty-six?
Pppf.
Give me a thousand years, check in then and see if I’m ready yet.