A couple of years ago, as we were speeding to catch a train, my friend's mother made a remark about life that has stuck in my memory ever since.
"When you're young, everything just keeps getting better and better," she said cheerfully as we sped through a red light. "It's as if everybody's hiking up a mountain together." I gripped the seat in front of me as we tore through an intersection. "But after you get to the top, it's not like that anymore. Everyone seems to find their own way down - one of your friends gets in an accident, someone else gets divorced, someone else loses all their money, or gets cancer... THAT'S what it's like when you're middle-aged!" she shouted happily.
A funny lady if I ever met one. Sometimes I agree with her more, sometimes less. It's hard to tell how much my view of things is colored by where I am on that mountain - if life is, indeed, shaped like a mountain. Right now, though, having just heard about the recent death of one of my high school teachers, I can't help thinking that the summit is looking an awful lot closer than it did in high school.
What? Who died?
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