Only five days before two-six. As I approach those numbers - as they approach me, rather, for so it feels - I'm more hesitant to let two and five press on and let two and six take ground, wary they will define me.
Today I lunched with women of all numbers - from nine months to ninety-seven years. It was interesting to note how, in a setting such as that, age became relative. Indefinitive. Perhaps it was the setting: we had gathered to celebrate the up-coming marriage of my cousin, Karen, who will be married next week. Simply stated, Karen is my ideal. I have wanted to be just like her for as long as I can remember. She is as gracious and as beautiful as they come, adventurous, kind, spiritual, and she's got the brains to boot. I bet if you asked her she'd say she's getting married a bit older than she would have expected, but her life is no less rich. I hope, as the years roll forward, single or married, I can become more like Karen. In thought and deed.
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