5 Minute Freewrite Day 375: Forty-Four

He liked to count the years by using seasons, so it wasn’t 44, his age was 176 seasons. That way of thinking made time feel different, and it made him feel like he had lived through more stuff, but he had to admit that for that last one, he didn’t need to count higher numbers.

When you reach over a certain age, you are bound to have seen many things, hear many things, done many things. And feel, a lot. Was life a big cycle, or a large repetition of smaller ones?, either way, he felt peace after many wars, after fighting for a spring amidst the snow. He liked to find the red blossoms buried beneath the white.

Now, here he was, at the pinnacle of his life, still healthy, still with dreams very much alive, with the fears from his youth vanquished. But there were times when a looming shadow showed itself: for every step in a good direction, it was a step closer to death. Because all things must end.

It was scary, but for now his family, his pets, his novels, they all kept him alive. Eternal sleep could wait, he was very, very awake.