Life is just so strange

I was 30 when I gave birth to my son, Darcy.  He was a big and beautiful and happy baby boy.   Now I am 60, and he just turned 30.   Oh me oh my how the time does fly.

I guess we all think about the same sorts of things.  What is it all about?  What is the meaning of life.  Why do we die and what happens after we have died.

Well, I don't know what it is all about.  Every time I come up with thoughts or theories on the subject, I tend to keep it to myself.  Not so much because I feel that others won't agree, or at least like my thoughts and ideas.  It's more of feeling that my thoughts and beliefs are mine.  Private.  Not to discuss and share and defend.  Especially not to defend.  Whenever I tell someone I am atheist and do not believe in god, they get all strange.  It's like they have to convince me that I am wrong, or worse, a lost soul.  They feel that I need to be saved.

When someone tells me their religion, I don't try to correct them and show them the errors of their way.   I am quite often interested and curious and ask questions about their chosen faith.    I have seen enough of the world and the workings of it, both natural and man made to see how people have such strong beliefs.  I do understand that prayer and meditation can be very healing.

There are times when I do wish I had some sort of religion.   When Chance was a very new baby, in the NICU in the hospital where he was born, in Hong Kong, I almost had him Christened.  There was a priest there praying over a very sick baby.  I almost asked him to bless Chance.   Like I was hedging my bets.  But, alas, Chance was never Baptized and he lived anyway.

I was thinking about writing about age here.  I am really tired, so might not tonight.   A friend sent a message that her father just died today.  Another friend wrote about her daughter turning one year old today and becoming an official "toddler".  And yet another friend's newest grandchild was born.  And one of my cousins- who is younger than me by 8 years, just became a grandmother for the 6th time.

And all of us and all of those babies will get older and learn to walk, and get to walk faster and then to run.  And then, eventually sit down in a wheel chair.  It's not all about survival.  It can't be.  Nobody survives.  Nobody gets out of this place alive.

Good night. Sweet dreams.