I know a 100-year old woman who is writing the story of her amazing life. She has been through a spell of illness lately, and when she was still recovering, she said she was only taking life one day at a time. She wasn’t sure if she should think far enough ahead to consider completing her book.

Now, several weeks after returning home from a protracted hospital and skilled nursing home stay, she is ready to keep telling her story. She says she can see further down the road now.

Just before she turned 100, she said, “There is a lady down the street who is 102. I want to get to know her, and ask her how she does it.”

“Lucy,” I said to her, “You are already doing it.”

I want to be like her when I grow up.

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It seems just a few years ago that I gave birth to my boys. Now they are both over six feet tall, and both married.

Jude and Olivia were home to get married and will soon return to the other side of the world. Soon thereafter–hopefully within a few more years–they will return home to the United States to stay. I wish them Godspeed on their return trip and as they embark on the journey of marriage. They are off to a good start.

Next week, Gail will turn 64 years young. It was just four short years ago that we celebrated her 60th birthday, right before Covid shut the world down. Gail, I know, is never really going to age, and growing up is optional for her. She remains young at heart, and that is what matters. We will celebrate her birthday in grand style on our upcoming Colorado trip in two weeks.

I will be 58 years young in a few months and Suzanne will be 54 this summer. In my mind, it seems these pictures were taken perhaps just 20 years ago–or so.

I have little tolerance for anyone who complains about turning another year older, or lying about their age to make themselves seem younger. “Age is a gift,” I tell them. As we all know, not everyone gets to have more birthdays. My only complaint is that as the giant clock of time continues to speed up its pace, they keep coming around too soon. I picture the hands on this master clock beginning to loosen and fly off because they are spinning too fast. I’m not sure how this happens, but I agree with this observation: The hours and days may drag by, but the months and years fly by. And, as a wise woman once explained to me, this increasing pace works like this: When you are ten years old, time moves ten miles per hour. When you are twenty, it moves twenty mph. When you are thirty…and on and on. You get the idea.

This year, we are given the gift of one extra day. Leap on it, and enjoy. And, if you know Gail, send her good wishes on Wednesday for finishing another trip around the sun.