Maybe it’s because I’m getting older and wiser, but I’ve noticed that things which now bring me to tears are less the everyday instances of hurt, pain and sadness and more the unexpected moments of joy, reconciliation and serendipity. Maybe as years advance we become so accustomed to tragedy that we’re more easily moved to tears by sudden simple beauties which were always before us but came at an age when we believed the world owed us more. The less time I have left the more important I find it is to plan a clean exit on a high note.
This, and the wrinkles, is how I know for certain that I’ve grown up.