I hated history class as a kid!

Whenever possible I avoided watching period pieces like the plague. I couldn't relate. But as I've gotten older my outlook on history has changed, especially as it links to my fascination for time and moments. It gauges growth and change, and I respect it now as a valuable learning tool.

. . .

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I had the strangest reaction to the final episode of 'The Big C'... a television show about a woman dying of cancer.

Besides being a teary eyed mess by the end of the episode, I woke up the next morning still crying!! The thought of her being gone. Leaving behind her teenage son. Her husband. Her brother. Family and loved . . .

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It fascinates me how one innocent moment in my life. A moment that should have been fun, carefree and joyous, can turn into such a pivotal moment of regret for the rest of my life.

It all started with a simple decision.

A choice that I made when I was maybe 8 or 9 years old, that has clung to my memory like a parasite . . .

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We all live it. Breathe it. Endure it. But do we ever accept it?

AGE.

For me, it all started when I was 30. Until then it never crossed my mind. I think in some unrealistic, fantastical part of my brain I actually thought I was going to escape the process.

I was an anomaly. An exception to the rule. Aging didn't . . .

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At the time it seemed like such a ludicrous question.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

I scrunched up my nose and frowned. How could I possibly know the answer to that question? I hadn't even finished High School.

I looked at my dad and shrugged my shoulders, replying indignantly.

. . .

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I have always questioned life, my existence, and why I'm here.

Perhaps because I never knew my biological father, that I was a 60s baby, that my mother's decision to keep me was not her first thought. That despite her anguish, I held on.

Or perhaps because in one split second, one fleeting conversation with a . . .

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