50
Let’s circle back to early February for a moment — in the rush of everything, I skipped over something important. I turned fifty. ME! – Shocking. I remember a night when I was eighteen. I was lying in bed, feeling spring pulse and flow through my body, and I thought: I don’t want to grow old, I won’t turn the heat down, won’t compromise, won’t wither away locked in an ageing body. There are things you’re absolutely certain of at eighteen. Back then, I was sure life wasn’t even worth living past twenty. :-D And I didn’t mean settling down — I meant momentum, emotions, raw energy. I was convinced all of that would fade with age. If only I had known that they go wilder! The packaging may get a little worn, but the content is still in full bloom. The hormones are gone, the rose-colored glasses disappear, and what remains are the real YOU with lasting values. Damn — I started living. Freely. Last year, for example, I decided that I would never again be cold on my birthday. Mallorca may not ...