Age is but a Number, too Bad Time is a Bitch

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I’ve made a bunch of friends in an online game I play, and yes, I know they could be 400lb people on the other end screwing with me. Honestly, I don’t care. I have “friends” for the first time since I became pregnant with Gavin and nearly everyone booked it. So yeah, it’s nice to have friends again. People I have things in common with, beyond the game. People I joke with, talk with etc.

One day we went down the line, those of us online at the time, of how old everyone was. When it came my turn I was horrified to be a 38 years old Mama of three playing this game with teens to early 20’s. I finally told them and the reply was “age is but a number, it’s how you feel that matters.” Which is all well and good, except it’s wrong.

It isn’t age we need to worry about. Every year we will pass the day of our death and have no idea. Its the passage of time that’s going to kill us, both literally and figuratively. Time is what matters most. What we do with our time here, amounts to just that time. 

I rarely hear people talk about what they are going to do with the time in their life. What they are going to do in terms of a job/career, sure, but still rarely what are they going to do with their time in between.

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