Dear Wigleaf,

I'm writing you from age 46. I swear I had just turned 40 and then woke up one day 46 years old and wondering where the time went. Some days it scares me to be this old, to say goodbye forever to aging parents, to see my hair go grey, to succumb to new aches and pains, but in some ways it's a thrill. I know now that forever is a lie. I'm more likely to go for it when there is something I want to do. I really notice things, like how great my mother's laugh is and how good pancakes taste when they are drenched in syrup. Though the ride can be rough the view is still beautiful.

Wish you were here,
 
Ellen






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Read EBM's "I See You."

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