Soon I will start my last year in the 70’s. But as mother would point out, when I have a birthday then I’ve begun the next year. When I celebrate my 79th birthday, I’ve finished that year and in my 80th year. Not what I want to hear. Mother is correct, though, for I’ve completed 79 years and on that day I start the next year. She would say, ‟I’m in my 80th year.”
You see, when we are born we are already nine months old. When we celebrate our first birthday, we have completed that year (and more) and start our second year. Complicated? Not really. It’s a matter of calculating correctly in the amount of years we’ve lived.
Then there’s the association of how one feels and one’s age. In my mind I don’t feel 79 (or 80). I look back in time and I don’t feel either young or old. But in my body I sometimes feel older than the years since my birth. I look in the mirror and often see my mother. Except for my skin; hers was smooth, few wrinkles or brown spots. Except for her hair; she had more grey at age 80. It’s just the age that shows on me. But she lived past 90.
Where am I going with this? Nowhere in particular. I’m having a birthday and that causes me to reflect. I want to go somewhere, perhaps make more use of the years that are yet to be.
Jack London, journalist, wrote: “The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.” I’m not so sure about all of that. And I’m curious what you think of it.
Ann Coker 
I found out recently that Jack London died fairly young. He wrote fifty books in seventeen years. He certainly didn’t waste time when it came to adventure and relationships.
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