On Facing the Autumn of Your Life
Musings from United Airlines, Flight 1978, Seat 1A
First Class isn’t my thing, unless United upgrades me. They did, but only on the one hour or so flight from San Francisco, which took off at 6:35 last night, to Eugene. I’m always grateful for a free upgrade, albeit parts of me would prefer an upgrade on my aging and tired body, which feels a lot better this morning than last night as I watched a red sun sink out over the Pacific.
I was returning from five magnificent weeks in Africa after a long hiatus, Covid-imposed, from what I do for love and for a living. As we swept north, the brilliant sun slowly settled into a bank of clouds, much the same way that the rising sun looks from your perch at Gilman’s Point at 5:30 am as you climb to the summit of the great Kilimanjaro.
One is a great beginning, one is the beginning of an ending.
At 68, I am facing the autumn of a life. The first snows started landing on my hair a long time ago, kept at bay by colors. When I return after a long trip the snows have taken over more acreage, just as the wrinkle patterns on my face have carved delicate new tributaries for when I sweat on my runs.
Time is moving. Below me, my beloved Pacific coastline slipped into darkness as the…
