One of the things I am starting to realize more and more in my forties is how precious every since hour is, and how fast time comes and goes. I shouldn’t take things for granted, especially not people, as they can come and go quicker then you can imagine. The decline in health is rarely sudden, but when it happens, there often is no going back.

I spent a lot of time with John Wolcott and his wife during his later years. I watched his decline in health, as gradual as it might have been, before his final hours. I heard the warnings, but I knew there would always be a least one more time to visit and go for a walk in the Crossings town park before there wasn’t. There was no more fall days left to push him around in the wheel chair, spotting the occasional Pitch Pine in the woods of the Crossings. I had hoped to get him back to Albany Pine Bush one last time, but that didn’t happen. It’s really hard to know what words to say to somebody who is dying slowly but surely before your eyes, you want to believe there always is another time to visit.

I’ve been thinking more and more about this closer to home when it comes to my parents, who are getting up there in years. Come Thursday, I am planning to go with them up to the Adirondacks to have a picnic up in Speculator, then probably drive back down along Piseco-Powley Road to show them where I often camp, and enjoy the beauty of the autumn colors which will likely be showing up north this week. Then go out dinner together. By the time they return from vacation, most of the colors will be gone, and I don’t want to pass up this chance to spend some time together. That’s why I’m taking off a day mid-week, as they don’t want to go up as they pack for vacation.

Likewise, while I am eating healthier and have really started to shun the unhealthy but delicious meals I grew up on — macaroni and cheese, lasagna, stuffed shells, and so forth — I realize there is only a limited amount of time to enjoy mama’s cooking. It would be a mistake to shun too much of her food in favor of health, or even refusing the delicious left-overs that can be frozen and eaten in moderation. I know I’ll never cook or make meals like mama, and while she is supposedly writing down her recipes, now is the time to enjoy them in moderation, knowing before long it will just be a memory as she gets older, her hands weaker and ability to cook may soon be impossible. Just because I am worried about all the sugar and saturated fat in mama’s cooking, I really shouldn’t shun it.

At the same time, I have some worries about my own health. While since turning I’ve really emphasized healthy diet and exercise, learning a lot more about cooking, my pissing problem continues to bug me — even though I got checked out by the doctor and they ran several urine and blood tests. It really could be just that I’m drinking too much coffee in the morning and not enough water at night, or all the fruits and vegetables I eat — or a simple infection, but I do have this fear of cancer or other serious kidney or liver disease not yet diagnosed. I think I’m healthy as most of my numbers are excellent, but it’s a worry in the back of my mind. It’s one of the reasons why I am thinking of going to West Virginia this year, in case it’s my last chance to do it. Probably not, but you never know.

Things always seem good, time endless until it’s not.