Although the sunset of my life is just barely touching the horizon, I could feel the tingling chill that comes with the realization that the long journey into the cold night would dawn on me soon enough. The image of a boy coming of age in the sixties, savoring untramelled pleasures and plunging into an unfettered life with wild abandon is not a picture I would find in my memory album. Instead, I see a boy barely into his teens, somewhat coy about securing his measure in a world outside of the warm cocoon of family, and being surprised that he did not find himself lacking or wanting.
Certainly in my case, the pull of duty and responsibility and the desire for a secure future, weighed heavily upon me so much that nothing could make me deviate from the straight and narrow path. Now that I have fully discharged those duties and responsibilities, and secured a stable future for my own family, I could be forgiven if I approach my impending departure with a pint of contentment, a pound of serenity, and a ton of self-serving praises.
There is more than something to be said about not living la vida loca.