When I’m 95.

When I’m 95, I want to be howling with laughter often…. pretty much all the time.

When I’m 95, I want to be holding hands with my beloved, who is laughing right along with me.

When I’m 95, I want each wrinkle, mark and scar on my face to be well earned and well deserved.

photo by Ismael Nieto

When I’m 95, I want to have done everything I wanted to do, seen everything I wanted to see, and know in my bones that I didn’t miss a thing.

When I’m 95, I want to feel closer to nature than ever before.

When I’m 95, I want to be molding and sculpting clay with my bare hands.

When I’m 95, I want to have been able to sit with all the friends who had to pass on before me and say a long farewell and whisper a sweet prayer for their next journey.

When I’m 95, I want to wear long colorful swaths of cloth so that I’m like a dash of paint as I move by.

When I’m 95, I want to be one of the old ones who really gets it. I want to be a true elder.

When I’m 95, I want to know that my life made a real difference.

 

When I’m 95, I will look back and say, “this was a damn good life.”

photo by Angelina Litvin

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