The Home Strait

Two significant life events recently on successive days. The first was my 60th birthday. Really? you ask? Already? I know. Feels like just yesterday I was 16, then woosh the big six-zero. How did that happen? 

Then the very next day, we were dropping D#4 off at University. Mrs D and I have a notional cut-off. The moment we drive away and leave a child at University, that's it. They have crossed the Rubicon into adulthood. All decisions are theirs to make. They own them, and the consequences of their decisions.

The moment we got home it was just the two of us. A house that had been filled with the sound of moaning joyful children was now quiet. Mrs D said, well you're on the home strait now.

D#3 was somewhat put out by the notion of my being on the home strait, a bit morbid. But I said no not at all. If you view your life, as a man, to be about raising a family, about putting food on the table, clothes on their backs, a roof over their heads, then that was it. Job done. Time to relax and enjoy. Every day is a bonus, to be enjoyed for itself, not as a step toward some future moment.

But for how long will this Nirvana last? Well, as we all know particularly after the last 18 months, that is an open question. And if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. But it seems sensible to make some kind of assessment. And my assessment is that I've got maximum ten good years. My current plan for my 70th, should I be sufficiently blessed to reach that point, is to spend my remaining years with crates of cold beer and sports on TV. 

So if I want to buy anything, buy it now. Do anything, do it now. 

And the first up on that list is ... photography!