I see them walk by and wonder about myself. Will I, when there, be like that? Stooped, aged, wrinkled. And how? Will my face have the good-natured smile lines? Or well worn worry marks? Will I be set in my ways? Sticking to a schedule which has been followed as long as I can remember?

What will I have seen? Who will I have known? Wars? Presidents? The rise and fall of powers? Births, deaths, friends? What memories will I treasure? Will I be able to remember them? I wonder, will I find the future exciting or confusing? Will I be sitting there complaining to my children and theirs about the crazy world? Or will I be out experiencing it? Who will I be?

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