It's 5:18 AM in Kansas City, and I just finished my morning "Wakeup Walk". Not a long walk. Only about about a half mile. But it serves it's purpose. I usually wake up sometime between 5:00 and 6:00. All the books say I should be getting more sleep, especially at my age.
God how I hate those last four words. "especially at my age" It's as if someone flipped a switch at 70 to declare you as now officially "old". Sorry, but I'm not old. At least not yet. Older? Yes. Every month. Every minute. But not old.
What's the difference? "Older" is a declaration of a continuation of spirit. That something more happened yesterday. That something more is happening today. And, God willing, that something more will happen tomorrow. That today is a good day. If for no other reason, because it is happening. And that tomorrow is full of possibilities. "Old" is, well, I don't know exactly what old is, because I haven't reached it yet. Unless you count 2014. But that's a story for another time. Perhaps later this year. But for now . . .
It's morning. The sun hasn't risen yet. A brand new day is in the offing. As with every morning, I have some stuff to clear out of the way before it does. Including cleaning up a writing desk that I uncharacteristically left a mess before retiring last night. Got to get to it. Because I have some writing to do today, and I want to get started no later than 6:30 AM.
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