She's drifting, softening in a world of her own construct, where things are just not as intense. She's very much in the present. The small, passing details of the moment are the urgent matters she will relate. I learned some things about growing old there. Not getting old, but growing old. We get different things at different times of our lives. From afar I worried about her, assuming she was lonely or sad. Wrong – she likes her own company - she is where and who she wants to be - in her own world and in her own moment; there is nothing to be sad about.
And she is fairly comfortable in her aging skin. She has the simple things, embracing the sunshine and the trees and her animals. The big fight that can be life, the big ambition, it's over for her. She has accepted many things. Just being around that made me feel a little lighter.
After I saw her, I took an early morning walk in