We went to visit some friends, a couple. The husband is going through a serious health crisis – Cancer. We thought it was going to be a sad and solemn visit so we took a selfie to cheer ourselves up– and secretly, to bravely peer into our own lens of atrophy.

We come into breath, young and supple; we experience life, swift and surprising; we begin to set off into our September, brittle and careful.

Turns out it wasn’t sad or solemn. We ended up having a sinfully good time!

The four of us and all our aches and pains had more fun than a bunch of noisy kids on a playground. What special diet? Bring on those juicy American burgers with dripping cheese and fries and coleslaw. We killed those.

We filled the time with show-and-tell and down-memory-lane and kitchen-table politics and what to do with accumulated earthly treasures.

We were aware that each one of us had more years behind us than ahead of us, unless a cure for mortality were soon discovered and people can make a choice if they want to hang on to breath for eternity or exit.

For now, exiting joyfully, meaningfully, on our own terms – if all or any of these were possible – was a goal we did not want to leave unattended.

We were all past the half-way mark and had a front-row seat to life lived and life to be lived.

That afternoon, we lived it up. Our friend’s accomplishments deserve to go down in history. A Captain of the air and a Commodore of the seas, he has demanded his share of large living in a land that placed a lot of hurdles for those who look like him especially in his younger time.

No doubt, he got us thinking about living every moment fully, carrying our aging selves with childlike wonder, and eating your hamburger to its last crumb.

In his garage was a vintage machine – a shinny red mustang, spotless leather and metal in all its retro glory. A gift to his wife, he said. You should have seen that pure joy on his face while cranking up that beautiful beast and hearing it fill the garage with the roar of engine power.

I wondered quietly- Why on earth do we ever kill the child in us? Letting the moments of our adulthood become our perpetual playground is a gift we really must give ourselves more often, and you don’t need material wealth to find that playground. You just need a playmate.

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