Or eighty, if we have the strength;
Yet their span is but trouble and sorrow,
For they quickly pass, and we fly away.
A quarter of my life is gone today. I'm no longer a teenager; I'm becoming a man. I've moved out, and managed to land a job and an education at the same time. I buy my own deodorant, wash my own clothes, and get my own food. Sometimes, I'd rather be the kid who played with his little brother - who was still "little" - while mom made snacks and dad made swingsets. But I know this is where I'm supposed to be.
And this is life. As Martin Luther said, "There are two days on my calendar: this day and that day." Henry David Thoreau wanted to "stand upon the meeting of two eternities, to toe that line." That's what I want to do - live without regretting the past or worrying about the future, thinking only about today and the day I'll fly away.
I want to be young. "We have sinned and grown old, but God is younger than we," G.K. Chesterton once told us. I want to relish each sunrise with the joy of a four-year-old who says, "Do it again!" I do not want to spend my youth preparing for my future. As my econ teacher told us, "I wish I had spent more of my money when I was young. Now I'm getting old, and soon I won't be able to do the things I'd like to do." Why should we make ourselves sick to lay up for a sick day?
Instead of anticipating the day when "things will get better", let's make them better today. Let's live in the moment, toe that line, and say, "Do it again!" every time the sun comes up.
And then one day, we'll fly away.