The other day, I caught myself telling a friend that 2013 has been a hard year. I usually keep personal feelings to myself. But my canine companion of 12 years, Lucy, died in July. I’ve lost long-time friends to cancer, in months and weeks of their diagnosis. I left my favorite car at a junkyard because it had become too costly to repair. A woman that was like a pseudo mother to me passed from an internal bleed doctors could not find. Tony Soprano really died, so no reunion show in the offing. Breaking Bad and Dexter are no more. Barbara Walters is retiring. The Safeway on Quaker Lane is closed until who knows when. And I slipped in the rain last week and earned myself a black eye.
But hey, Twinkies are back, and Downton Abbey returns in January. And just last week, a man I’ve admired for 25 years chose to remarry at age 85. I couldn’t attend the wedding, but I saw a video of the ceremony, and the man could not stop smiling. He is looking forward to his future, be it a year, five or ten. His days are filled with love and companionship. Yes, he is closer to the end than the beginning, yet there lies hope in its purest form – a good book, a single bloom, a wagging tail or a hand to hold.
We should all be so grateful to grow old. Maybe it’s not such a bad year after all. Enjoy our Fall issue and continued thanks to our loyal readers and advertisers.