I get a little sad sometimes, thinking about how most of my life is already behind me.
Maybe if I’m lucky I’ve got 30% left to live. And maybe only 20%. Maybe less.
I don’t have children. There will not be grandchildren or great-grandchildren. And yet I want to be remembered.
So I write. And I hope some – a few – of my words might last.
I have nieces and nephews. And grandnieces and nephews. They might remember me – their silly, vain, old Aunt Nancy.
I suppose the advantage to being old today is that I will die before the planet does. It may be a blessing that I have no grandchildren or great-grandchildren who will suffer as the planet deteriorates.
But I do love those nieces and nephews and their children. And their children’s children, even though I don’t know them yet. I love them already.
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