25

I am 25 today. (!!). Time coasts by.

I'm trying to remember what happened between 20 and 25, and its difficult. Childhood too, is a blur of rice paddy, skyscraper and autumn; brick buildings, soccer, cows and beggars; storms, swimming, heat, singing. A little bit of death. I'm a girl of 6 standing in front of a brown Volvo; I have shiny brown hair and a purple backpack, and my cheeks are the same color as my pink Carebear shirt. But this I know only from a picture and I have no idea what those big brown eyes are trying to tell me. I was once this creature -- half my current size and cute.

Today, I have this halting thought: I'm a quarter of the way through, which means there's three more to go... how exactly am I doing? This is more than just important -- its my one chance -- the only life that matters. Have I spent my time here wisely?

I treat this topic as if I am a visitor in this life, yet I cannot fathom any life but this one. I become a third person observer stealing glimpses of myself, then remember that there is no third person -- there is only me and I am the protagonist in all these visions, yet have no other vantage point from which to observe.

My third person self says, "Be Excellent," and then, "Be Excellent to Yourself." And I try. I think I have done well so far, with this whole living thing.

I imagine this conversation will be very different at 40.