COSMOS

What is the point? I find myself thinking.

Nothing really seems that important anymore, no sense of urgency or emotional surge to get “it” done.

Move my space around, add a pergola, finish the kitchen, buy another typewriter, have guests come over for a weekend, all part of my daily routine I call my life, minus the thrill I used to get as it approached and the feeling I have had after completion.

Blah. Ambivalent.

Drinking doesn’t even enliven my spirit like it used to.

What’s the point as I watch young husbands of my friends die in their forties?

As I receive another email from the a local breast cancer support group that another survivor got her “angels wings.” In one brief moment I look at social media, I learn of an old acquaintance whom I helped find her way to writing pass away. 57. And I think, Is this what death has come to? Learning about it on social media?

The days are flying by and merging with each other at a speed I never imagined possible. Is this what happens as we age? So I revert to what I know. Now.

Finding joy in the daily moments.

Shopping for food, making sandwiches for the beach and heading to the beach for an 8:30am time slot to beat the traffic — just like my grandmother used to do.