Privilege

It’s a privilege to live to regret your tattoos. To be able to look back  decades with a wry smile and a shake of the head.

It’s a privilege to become a silver-haired man who has read many books and seen the sun rise on a few different continents. To be able to wear mature clothes and appreciate red wine.

It’s a privilege to birth and raise healthy children. To become a grandmother and come to peace with your own traits and flaws which have been passed down. Or even to have learned from them.

It’s a privilege to grow to better understand life’s intricacies, and realize what is and isn’t worth worrying about. What holds value and what is mostly bluff.

It’s a privilege to avoid the hospital bed until you’re good and ready. To serve out your days casting fishing lines, reminding yourself how lucky you’ve been to breathe clean, sea air and enjoy its eternal aesthetic.

It’s a privilege to have family, cats and dogs.

It’s a privilege to know any of this long before you’re gone.

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