31

31.
I lay there in my bed, feeling absolutely nothing about the number except that I realized it had a one in it. It was the beginning, the first year. The first year of a decade. Or the second, it depends on how you count it. I chose the first. It was the T1, of the timeline, the start of the calendar. Reset ready to go. You have ten years. Do it right.

Or you don’t. Decades, numbers, we all know they mean nothing. Health is not relative to age. Wisdom is not relative to age.

Instead I am going to choose this day as a marker. There are things I want to do. I will use birthdays to see if I have done them. Maybe next year I won’t care about what I care about today. Maybe next year I will care more.