An old man once wrote ...

I'm an old man now. 89 years old and dying. I'm as tired as I've ever, ever been and I am reflecting. On my life. At this moment, I am reflecting on this moment in my timeline. I remember how it was hard and smile at the thought that one of the main thoughts in my mind at the time was how it felt like time was moving so slowly. In the grand scheme of my many days, this time frame is small. Since then I have lived and long before then I lived and it is but a chapter. A blip. As or more important than the others. I missed you so, but as a result I have had a happy life. I've been married twice to the same wonderful woman. I've watched my beautiful children grow into beautiful people and laughed and cried and watched people live and seen people die. I've been alive and I worked hard and played hard and loved hard and easy. I am a happy kind of tired. It's coming to an end just as so many thousands of days in my life and I feel like I've earned my rest and I seek that place I've been dreaming of all day long. I have reached the moment of the day which I cherish the very most as I crawl into bed again with you. I drift off to sleep at home.

A.G.S.