The rice paddies that stretch out from the house are flooded now, reflecting the sky with big puff-ball clouds that turn pink, then orange, then white as the morning sun rises.
The cloudy twilight sky was an eerie smoky orange. It felt otherworldly and matched my mood. I’ve had a spate of challenges and losses of late.
Did you ever think, “Ah, when I’m 65, I can finally do what I’ve wanted to do for so long: I can read when I want, be creative, take afternoon naps, see friends and play with my grandkids”?
At my favorite Bangkok duck-soup stall, the owner lights up every time I say, “Aroy mak!” letting her know I thought the food was delicious. There’s a momentary connection we wouldn’t have had, had I said, “Delicious!” in English.
A man named Randy Scott (not his real name), requested to ‘friend me’ on Facebook. I often get military men, middle-aged and older men, requesting to be friends. I delete them since my rule of thumb is, “Don’t accept friend requests from people I don’t know.”
People often complain about air travel and having to arrive two hours early for an international flight. The long check-in lines and going through immigration and security can be tedious.
Ten years ago, five floors up in a Mumbai apartment, a sari clad palm reader told me I’d work until I was 78. That still suits me fine since I don’t have ‘retirement’ either in my bank account or my vocabulary. I’m one of the lucky ones that loves working and can’t imagine living without this passion that daily spurs me on.