Its been unseasonably warm lately, but last week there was one night in particular when the temperature was perfect.
It's hard to describe. That night had a certain quality to the air, and it reminded me of when I was young and getting ready to leave home for the evening. There would be adventures, and you really wouldn't know what you'd get up to, just that it was going to be awesome.
A chill to the night air. Nothing excessive. Just slight. It's a spring night stolen from winter. You might not even need a jacket. There are friends waiting at a house party or a bar, or we're just chilling somewhere. Whatever it may be, adventure is in the air.
But I'm 45 now. Adventure still has its allure, but I just don't have the energy to take it on. I felt sad when I realized that I wasn't going out last week, that I was just going to go home and relax and wait for the next day. Because it feels like a missed opportunity. To be young again, to go on said adventures. When those times end, that's when you know you're getting old.
The world has moved on. So have I. O Discordia!
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