Coming Back Home

I've been messing around with my first blog for the past couple of days. The core topic was Dating After 50. I'm smiling and shaking my head in retrospect as I read what I had to say about life after breaking up with the fiancé whom I thought would be my fifth husband 🥴 , my forever partner. I was 56 years old when I started writing this blog. Fifty-six!! My elder son will be 52 in December. My younger son will turn 50 a month before we all—they and their nuclear families—go,on our first vacation together since they were teenagers!

In early 2007, I wrote:
[Through all,this writing,] I think maybe my sons are getting to know their mom as kids normally don't know their parents. I'm hoping they're enjoying it, and I'm hoping to memorialize some of myself to them to pass down to their kids or future wife in case I don't live to 75 or whatever.

How interesting is it, now in 2025, when I'll return from our vacation to celebrate my 75th birthday, to see that 75 was the random age to target as the stopping point? I find it very interesting!

I think I'll target 75 as the year to reset with a new knee, rather than the year to stop all activities.