Enjoyed this, especially when I got to this. Because kindly Kate, I know so many people in their twenties and thirties who are old old right now. As a 66-yo adventure athlete, body builder, kayaker, rider, cyclist, blah blah, as someone who has clients in VERY cool countries (writing you this from Bali, where it’s close to 80 near the plunge pool at my client’s house) and who spends three months a year doing stupidly ridiculously badass sports, I have to challenge the term old old. I understand how you mean it. However as someone that society has decided is old, but with a 36–25–36 lean, hard, body that is fully muscled and striated, I struggle to embrace the notion just based on age. And of course I know you don’t mean it that way. I wouldn’t even identify with young-old because nothing in my house, my gear room, my travel plans or life indicate old. Seasoned, yes. Mature, yep. We are SO age obsessed that we spend time worrying about shit that ages us FAR before we have even gotten crow’s feet. I see it online all the time. Truth, what drives me is good exercise, good food, NO alcohol, lots of adventure, good friends, lots of quiet time, a million million books and work choices that speak to my deepest passionate heart. NONE of that happened overnight. Nor should it. It’s earned. People get old obsessing over stupid shit that does. Not. Matter. Whether I have a man (they come and go, pun intended) kids (nope) what’s coming next — I have no clue but I know I can handle it. Worry kills. Ages. Anti depressants kill. Pharmaceuticals are America’s legal poisons. We all have to find our way, but the best elixir of youth I know is laughter. I will take making fun of myself and my bullshit any day of the week. There’s plenty of it, too, so I’m guaranteed plenty of giggle material. Thanks for a thoughtgful, intelligent piece. Enjoy your candles. I’m going to go to the plunge pool and play like I’m a toddler.