Months To Years Spring 2018 Months To Years Spring 2018 - Page 15

People Die at 35 By Leah Angstman I remind myself, all the time, they do— They walk off sidewalks, and cars come; limbs rise from fog; collapse from some congenital legacy a grandparent left behind. There is no guarantee that midlife will be the middle of your life. To the young kid, I think: How lucky he doesn’t know that, but I, at 35, know. I defray this knowledge with calendars, scheduling barbecues, promising I’ll go to PhD presentations at local libraries, I’ll see Edison and the Eclipse at the planetarium and Animals as Leaders at the Fox. I’ll live. I’ll start jogging, tomorrow. Drink less, fret less, eat less, sit less, complain less, stress less, talk less, tomorrow. Sleep more, tomorrow. Listen more. Tomorrow. But each pang in the chest, cramp in my side, stiff knee reminds me this could be it— This could be the last minute that I am who I am, and good enough to be who I am, so who I am had better be good enough to outlast this last minute. 15