Yesterday, probably against many odds, I reached yet another birthday. Number 78, this time. Who'd've thought? Certainly not me! For years, I thought I probably wouldn't live past 50, yet here I am. I don't remember my reasoning or rationale for any of that, if there even was any. Probably because of my crazy lifestyle and my penchant for doing things that had a bit -- or a lot -- of risk involved. Driving fast cars on snaky mountain roads; offshore sailing in heavy winds and an occasional storm; bicycling thousands of miles hugging the shoulder of busy roads (those could also be snaky mountain roads, or flatland roads, or once even on an Interstate when there was no option) or, if there was no shoulder, claiming my bit of the traffic lane. The list goes on, but you get the idea.
These lovely flowers came from my daughter and granddaughters, which made them more special than the ordinary flower, by far. Between them, they changed what is usually a low-key, even depressing, day into a day filled with love and caring. I'm glad I lived to experience this, and hope for many more years to come.
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