I'm truly home again. A phone call came from Saz this evening to say that the great Gatsby has returned my blog. Well the heading anyway, and that's ok because I have all my old posts safely tucked away and I shall gradually put them back where they belong. Starting with this, my very first one.
Looking back is good, isn't it?
by Moannie
I am reminded, once again, as another friend is fading, of my mortality. There is no reprieve. No matter how young I feel, or- as my children often remind me; with the kind of smiles reserved for whimsical children-how young I may behave, I am nearer to my demise than I care to believe. Sometimes, this gives me pause as I attend another funeral of another one of my contempories. I am saddened and I miss them dreadfully, but...is it terrible of me that I'm so grateful that it isn't me? It isn't me!!!!!
In a few days I shall be seventy four. Good Grief! That gives me six more years if I match Derek's score, seven if I better Marjorie. That's no time at all...not good enough. I wont have it. I intend to be the first person to live forever.
Meanwhile I shall ruminate on the view from this end of life. It is a vast panorama of places, people and events that have coloured my full rich life, and hopefully, there is still time for a few more lovely surprises.
