Age

The beauty of age is the knowledge gleaned along the way.

In the beginning I was surrounded by people, by family, those who loved me and could care for me, but through the years we became separated by circumstances, miles, even death.

Time is not kind to people.

I grow older, I move, I bury those near and dear.

But a part of me remembers, relives, retains all that went before.

The past is never too far from where I am and so I reap the benefits of my experiences, memories, even my mistakes, and there are lots of them by my age.

I don't have a time machine.  I can't be twenty again, or eight, or even fifty, but I can resurrect the parts of me that were and they stand behind me wherever I go.