Half and half

1974?

Some time ago I realised I have possibly less years left to live than what I have lived already. Which means I'm at a half way point in life. It's rather fitting, I feel.
I am quite literally at a turning point too.

I am living on my own. Part time with my wonderful, rambunctious, arguing, intelligent, beautiful children. Part time on my own alone. I own my own house (weee!). I have a decent job which magically manages to keep me interested year in and year out (twenty years this year).
I love my body. Not all of the time, not for all of it's quirks, but more and more so as time goes. My body is not perfect, but that's not the point. It's AWESOME, fricken hell the things it has done and the places it has carried me through... :-)

I know I should've done many many things.
Should've. Should have. Schmould have. Never mind. I haven't done them. That's that. Not much I can change about that.
Regret is a wasteful emotion.


Question is, what will I do with the rest of my years? :-)