Our daughter is running around full of wonder. She will be 2 in August. Those of you with children already realize how fast it goes. At 40, I tend to miss the care free days of no anxiety, and the only thing I could count on was my youth. Time moves and before you know it, the actors that seemed young are suddenly showing aging, as am I. Brown hair turns gray and back to brown due to the dye. Weights are lifted and distances are run in an attempt to slow the process just a bit. At 40 all the teachers I had in school are mostly retired. I realize now, I thought they were old, yet some were younger than I am now when they taught me. Anxiety is a slow killer. It is not given enough props in the kill zone area of things. Depression hogs the spotlight. Depression is the final chapter, but the bulk of the book is co-authored by anxiety with the depression merely adding an ending. In fact, depression should truly be a ghost writer. I imagine older is even worse. What was once tight now sags, the laugh lines stay long after the laughing has ended. No way to stop the clock. Is it better to live long or to live fully? Charles Limburg (spelling of his last name is more than likely wrong) said if he flew ten good years before crashing his plane and dying, that he has lived. I assume it comes down to quality of life, choices and above all else…are you happy in your space. I had a friend last year take the bridge (in a literal sense). Madman….some said, selfish….others muttered…..COWARD….some whispered in close circles as not to offend. He suffered greatly from depression. Coward? I think not. No suicide note, no signs, no plea for attention. He merely decided to write the last chapter himself and end the book on the exact page he wanted to. He knew the how and when and put it into action. Do I miss him? I had not seen him for years. My memory drifts to us as child…when we were so full of that wonder.