My mother turns 70 today. That’s weird. Very weird. She doesn’t look 70. Doesn’t act 70, at least not the 70 of my expectations. 70 is old, no? But perhaps not. Perhaps it is just another age, another number I will be one day, too. My child will be 70 one day and she won’t feel like it either. I don’t feel almost 38. I feel like I’m in my 20s, still trying to figure out how to be an adult. I don’t want life to move so fast. I don’t want there to be death and regrets and failure. I want there to be be endless beginnings and opportunities and adventure. I suppose at some point one must look at life in a new way. Not one that moves and leaves a past behind but one that is.