Did I Say 60? Sixty? Six - Zero? When Did That Happen?

Sixty used to be old. Over the hill. It was even older than my parents.

Now, well, now it's about to be me.

This past Monday I was sitting along the bank of the Whitewater River in SE Minnesota. It was a remarkable evening.



Down in the valley the sun had mostly gone behind the hill a good hour before official sunset up on the prairie bluff. I was overwhelmed by the beauty and tranquility of the evening and the deer across the river and running behind me.




Out of nowhere it came to me that I was about to turn 60. I had been spending so much time on my 60 for 60 Bike Ride these two days I have a hunch I was using that to play the denial card. Maybe if I ignore it and put other stuff around it I won't notice.

But sitting there on one of those unforgettable summer evenings I was overwhelmed with the fact.

"My God," I said out loud to no one standing nearby but to one who has been there for the whole 60 (and then some.) "My God. Sixty! Me. What a wonderful life to have been blessed so much! So much." And I shook my head in disbelief.

And then I noticed another deer and went to try to take another picture.


Isn't that what life is supposed to be about?