If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn't brood. I'd type a little faster.
The quote above illustrates some of what I've been feeling ever since hitting my seventh decade last year. Another writer friend and I have commiserated about suddenly feeling like we needed to write a little faster, send our work out more often, keep one step ahead of the twenty-something writers.
Once a person hits seventy, whether a writer or not, there comes a time of reflection. It's a time to look back at what your life has been, what has been accomplished, or perhaps what has not. And one needs also to set some goals for the years ahead. I felt as if I'd turned a corner, and the street ahead appeared so much shorter than the one I'd already traversed.
There was a time when some seventy year old women sat down in their rocking chair, folded their hands and waited for illness or death to approach them. They had the attitude that the meaningful part of life was over, and I'd be willing to bet that for them, it was over. Several days ago, my blog post discussed a book I'd read about growing older gracefully. The most important thought left when I finished the book was that my life is exactly what I make it. It's my choice.
And because I love my writing life, I choose to continue it as long as I have the ability to think and to write something coherent. I'm grateful that I live in a time when seniors are not cast aside, that they can live full lives and be a benefit to others in some way, as well.
I have ideas for so many stories and essays tripping over one another in my mind. Like Mr.Asimov's quote, I think I need to learn to type a little faster.